


Blue: Cerulean

by Mad_Hamlet



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Hamlet/pseuds/Mad_Hamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first part of Blue. This is Cerulean. There was no Catalyst-AI, there was no answer to what or why The Reapers were. There was only Shepard, The Crucible and Harbinger. Afterwards there was only Shepard- marked forever by the ancient machines. And for that reason she will be betrayed and hunted down. For that reason she will fight the oldest of enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue: Cerulean: Prologue

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents

A 'Mad-Hamlet' Production

Blue

By Mad-Hamlet

Prologue

'Anderson?" No response."Sir?"

She closed her eyes...just for a moment, that was all, just a split second and it took everything she had left-

'...so little left...so tired...'

everything she had left to open them again. Again the silent war above the Earth-

'...she's burning, Earth is burning...'

and in that instant of weakness she could have sworn there were far less ships and even more of the black monsters.

'...have to protect them from the monsters...'

She looked down at her hand, drenched in blood, a deep wound that glistened in the soft lights of the control room; an old thought came back to her, an idea, a belief held by others that she rejected and yet it came anyways, lurching from the dark parts of memory:

'Sometimes the dragon wins.'

A burst of static in her ear, she flinched away from the noise and the sudden movement left her gasping, a rivulet of blood from between clenched teeth was clumsily swept away.

"Shepard! Nothing's happening, The Crucible has docked but nothing's happening!" Hackett's voice, usually so dry, resolute and firm held fluttering of panic- a quiet desperation.

She lurched to her feet, "What-" another ripping feeling, she stumbled, caught herself with one arm, the agony knocking her to her knees; she ignored it. "What do you need me to do?"

A quiet tone from the front of room chimed gently in the silence, she glanced up at the control panel from where she sprawled. A single holographic control was gently shifting in color from the default orange, down to a light blue and back to orange; floating above the controls a three dimensional model of The Crucible hung in mid-air, spinning lazily about and about. Above the model were the words:

Accept incoming operational protocols Y/N?

Gritting her teeth against a fresh way of pain, Shepard pulled herself to her feet and awkwardly shuffled to the controls, an arm outstretched to confirm, to authorize to just get the damn thing going and stop them, stop the dragons, stop the monsters, stop The Reapers.

Her body betrayed her and she fell, her out flung hand passing through the holographic display and slapping at he hardware beneath.

"Authorization accepted," a synthetic voice sighed. "Please standby."

With one hand pressed to her side Shepard leaned against the console with her other and pulled herself to her feet staring at the display. Seconds passed and behind the model of The Crucible the war continued to rage. A trio of Turian Frigates dove beneath an oncoming Reaper vessel, two going under while the third attempted to flank the behemoth. With casual, arrogant, grace the living machine flicked out a massive arm, neatly bisecting the lone vessel before orienting its killing beam at the other two, destroying them.

'At least ten thousand,' Shepard swallowed. 'Ten thousand dead right there.'

"Please standby" the synthetic voice repeated.

The three hundred and sixty degree display showed all the war raging over the Earth, ships flickered, blossomed and died. Pilots of smaller craft dove into oncoming Reaper fire to give the capital ships a few seconds longer; fighter craft bobbed and weaved pursued relentlessly and cut from the sky by automated drone fire and everywhere, not a single sound was heard.

"Firing controls coming online."

"Come on, come on," Shepard muttered between her teeth.

"Shepard."

This was not the synthetic voice, the entire room shook with the power behind that word, her name- the word was spoken by something behind her.

'Of course,' Shepard thought without turning around then aloud she spoke "All I have to do is push this button and you're all on a road to hell."

"Hell is a theological concept," Harbringer replied. "A place of torment and punishment used in many different organic belief systems as a form of revenge or as a threat of punishment in regards to issues of perceived injustice or as a means to control. The irony being that it is also used as a reason to believe in redemption," a pause. "Redemption is irrelevant."

She looked over her shoulder. The hologram was massive, filling the entire rear of the room and Harbringer's three eyes glared down at her. Even though they were only an image, a vague outline of light, somehow the immense time and power of their existance was palpable; their insect-like legs flexing, bending, an inhuman thing, an alien thing.

"In this case it means I'm going to kill you," Shepard smiled. "You and every single other Reaper in the entire galaxy."

Harbringer said nothing for a moment. Its eyes, bright harsh lights throwing clear shadows everywhere, just studied her in silence until:

"Bear witness," The Reaper spoke and hovering beside the massive hologram was an image of Earth, the combat around the transport beam that so many had already died to give Shepard her one shot. Her breath caught in her throat, "Liara," she breathed.

The Asari half crouched behind an overturned Mako, its crew scattered around the wreck, one body hung from an open wrent in the side, his dead hand brushing gently against her blue skin, the red blood mixing in the dark light as a mixed deep purple sliding alongside her face. She appeared to ignore it, her eyes were closed and her lips moved silently then with a cry of "Now," she lept around the edge of her cover flinging her hands forward. A singularity erupted into existence right in the middle of a line of advancing Husks and Cannibals, lifting them into the sky, flailing and twisting, caught up and pulled toward the center of the mass event. At the same time several Alliance marines stepped out of cover with weapons raised and with precise shots, began cutting the helpless things to pieces .

Shepard could see the sweat beading on Liara's face as she maintained the singularity well past its normal capabilities; holding so many and for so long was taxing.

"Clear," One marine announced, and Liara groaned slightly, wobbled, leaned one hand against the burning Mako and straightened.

"She's fighting," Shepard grinned. "We all are."

"You care for this one," Harbringer rumbled. "She is your strength."

Shepard's grin died on her lips.

"Observe," And the view switched to a group of Banshees, moving among the battle littered landscape with the same grace of the Asarai they had been harvested from, only twisted now, predatory. Small arms fire came from beyond the edge of the screen and one of the creatures casually flicked a wrist. A surge of biotic power ripped off in the direction of the gunfire, there was an explosion and the guns fell silent. Shepard felt it then, on the edge of her awareness, like a gentle pulse that echoed out from Harbringer's image.

'Communication?' Shepard thought and as the idea entered her head, as one creature the Banshees turned and stalked with new singular purpose- and Shepard knew exactly what that was. She spun on her heel to bring her hand down on the button. It would save them, save her, save them all and to hell with the consequen-

There was the quiet woomph of a short range biotic jump, a scream and against her will Shepard's hand froze.

'No,' she thought. 'Can't be too late, not again, not now- won't look. It's not- I can...'

And against her will she looked.

One Banshee had its talons hovering directly in front of Liara's eyes. Those blue, blue eyes were open wide. Her hands were pressed against the Mako. In the background the marines were burning right along with the entire horizon.

"The Cycle will continue," Harbringer thundered.

Another Banshee reached over the Mako and gripped Liara's face between its talons. It bent the Asasri's head back, forcing her to look directly at the screen, as she screamed in defiance the sound cut out. Still gazing upwards her screams ended and her lips moved silently, "Shepard?"

The Banshees remained still, waiting.

"Firing the weapon will do nothing," Harbringer rumbled. "An act of irrelevant desperation. Revenge against those who hold no meaning in the term; even as we die our minions would merely lose our guidance. The final moments of your mate would merely linger . Our armies are given purpose through our will, with that gone they will merely destroy. You cannot save her through violence."

With effort Shepard turned away. She regarded the panel with the blinking button that might trigger The Crucible, might end The Reapers, might bring finality to this war and save countless billions. She looked at her other hand, the thick blood oozing from between her fingers, running down the shattered remains of her armor to drip and splash on the floor.

She chose.

"I love her," she said turning back to Harbringer. "I only told her that once. I wish I had done it sooner but once will have to be enough."

Shepard glanced at the image of Liara, her Asari. Liara spoke again, Shepard couldn't hear but clearly could read what she was said: Do it!

"I love her more than anything," Shepard replied, ignoring Harbringer's threat. "I would have done anything, endured anything to save her. I'd like to believe she knows that." she blinked, shadows were creeping in around the edge of her vision.

Shepard took a deep breath, winced at the pain and continued, "But not everything. Not everyone. I don't know them, all I want is her. I want her, some rest. A chance to have a little peace," she smiled to herself. "A picnic maybe. I haven't been on a picnic..." her voice drifted off.

"I love her," Shepard said again, "More than any one thing; but not against everything."

"The Cycle will continue," Harbringer repeated.

Shepard pushed the button.

"Commencing firing sequence," the synthetic voice said without any emotion to mark the occasion, the significance.

The lights dimmed, faded, and died. Only Harbringer and the image of Liara repeating, "Do it, Shepard. Do it!" silently illuminated the control center.

Then with a roar that Shepard felt through her feet, run up along her spine and into her teeth a pulse emanated from the Crucible. There was nothing to see, yet a palpable wave passed through her, robbing her of strength and she fell to the floor, biting back a curse against the fresh slam of pain.

Harbringer hovered silently.

Then the world went white.

Across the display running the entire circumference of the control room, out in space, Shepard saw one of their capital ships pause, almost comically hold still then lazily start to roll sideways. A great pulse of white light seared through the cracks that made its body and it was dead. Then another and another. A pause, a great quiver ran along their body, the pulse of white and then just another drifting wreck.

Harbringer turned, looking out at the display then stared down at its destroyer.

From on the floor Shepard grinned up at The Reaper through bloody teeth, "Fuck you."

Harbringer returned their gaze to the destruction of their race and said nothing.

"The cycle continues!" and the deep thunderous roar was almost one of triumph, of exultation.

"What?" Shepard whisper. "You're dying, we're destroying you in fact why are you still talking?"

"As we were the first, so shall we be the last," Harbringer replied calmly."As it should be."

"The cycle is broken," she shouted back at the ancient machine. "I've broken it," and she gestured to the display, showing the battle around them. "We, together, have broken your damned cycle."

"No," Harbringer replied and if anything its voice was now calm. "The cycle will continue. We are your salvation through destruction."

"I'm destroying you!" Shepard screamed. She was so tired, her self-control was cracking at the seams. "I'm destroying you," she slammed her fist on the floor. "I'm destroying you, you son of a-" and she stopped.

Thoughts raced, her eyes flickered to the battle where the remaining fleets were firing with everything they had left at the few active Repears who were still slowly dying, all the ships, from all the races, fighting, dying, together- the combined might of every creature alive in the galaxy were right out there as one force.

Shepard then said, "Whose destruction?"

Harbringer remained silent.

Shepard pressed on, "Whose destruction is our salvation?"

And then Anderson's voice echoed around the control room, "You've done good, child. You've done good."

"Answer me!" Shepard shrieked and she didn't even feel the pain.

"It is irrelevant," The First Reaper intoned. "The victors will harvest from the destroyed and grow stronger so as to face what is. As our time ends your people will harvest us. Learn from us, grow from us. Perhaps you will turn your newfound strength upon each other. That is acceptable. The victors will grow stronger from that still."

"The Crucible, it's your technology isn't it? You seeded it, didn't you? Left it behind for each cycle to discover and improve upon."

"Yes."

"But you harvest them, us!" Shepard shouted back.

"Salvation through destruction," The ancient machine repeated. "One is as good as another."

"I thought we were dust before your cosmic wind," she snarled.

"Shepard," Harbringer said. "You have created a storm. The cycle will continue."

"So...because the galaxy has united itself against you-" Shepard began. "All this death? So many cycles, always ending in genocide for what? So you could create a situation that makes all the younger races suddenly buddies? That's your cycle?"

"There are realms of reality that you do not know," Harbringer said calmly. "And within them are threats, threats we opposed. We stopped them and replenished ourselves, strengthening our numbers and fortifications at the expense of other advanced life that could be harvested; now we will end. The cycle will continue, Shepard, but it is no longer our responsibility to protect this galaxy. That burden is now your own." It took a moment and Harbringer's eyes stared out at the panorama. "All of yours, together. Including your mates'."

Shepard sat upright, "Liara," she breathed.

The Banshees were still there and again Shepard felt that quiet pulse emenate from Harbringer. Again, as one The Banshees obeyed an unspoken command. The one gripping Liara's head released her and they turned and began to stride away. Then one paused and without warning buried both its hands up to the elbows into the the torso of its nearest companion. With a shrill scream the other Banshee shifted through space with a biotic jump ripping its attackers arms off in the process leaving both to collapse with unholy shrieks echoing across the battlefield.

Liara ran. In a heartbeat she was no longer in the image.

"We are losing control," Harbringer stated without inflection. "We are undone, the duty is yours, Shepard."

"What, of protecting the galaxy?" bracing one hand on the console she pulled herself to her feet, hissing against fresh agony, ignoring the heat of her violated flesh against her palm.

"Yes."

"Like you? Like your 'protection'?" she hobbled toward the hologram, thrusting out an accusing finger. "You protected how many races into extinction?"

"Our salvation, their destruction," Harbringer stated with rebuke in their voice. "And then to their salvation in the struggle. One that you will face alone now."

Shepard grit her teeth, 'why can't you just be afraid?' she thought. 'Why can't they all just be afraid, just once I want to see them afraid, not this calm ...dead...cold nothing."

"Die already!" she snarled.

"Soon enough," Harbringer agreed. "We will-"

The room exploded.

A shriek of twisting metal blasted her from her feet and sent her tumbling across the floor, fresh blood stained the deck as she rolled. Behind her the console sparked and began to burn. She could feel the vibrations through the floor as The Citadel groaned.

"Of course," she moaned. "You couldn't have gone quietly."

"Your construction efforts were flawed," Harbringer stated. "The Citadel will survive the weapon's detonation but this area will be destroyed. Return to the beacon, it will return you to your point of origin. We will be waiting."

She stood up again, hobbling, limping toward the door. A pause, she wasted two seconds on a last salute to Anderson, she didn't even glance at where the Illusive Man lay.

'I'm dying,' the thought hammered her.

'I'm dying,' again a hammer blow of despair. She shuffled toward the stairs, it took what felt like forever to make her way down them; one shuffling step at a time, the knowledge that one mistake and she'd tumble head first down them and never stop falling.

'I'm dying,' each step, each limping pathetic shuffle, sent pain lancing across. It felt like she was being ripped apart; deep inside parts of her were giving up and she kept moving anyway.

'I'm dying,' The long hallway packed with the dead was waiting for her. The deep red light, like blood and fire was waiting. She felt their eyes, weighing her, judging her, demanding answers. A violent detonation behind her sent her into a wall; the explosion of agony behind her eyes made her gag and a rivulets of blood went coarsing across her tongue to be vomited on the dead.

'I'm dying,' the beacon was there. A quiet, white illumination glowing in the dark, deep reddish hell of the dead. It lead back to Earth, back home, back to-

"I'm dying, Liara," Shepard spoke the words aloud. "But I'm not dead yet."

A shuffle, dragging one foot slightly, she stepped through the beam.

Liara T'Soni ran

The warbling battle cry of a group of Cannibals keened from the darkness; she shifted to the right and took off again parallel to her original path.

A Marauder stepped out from some rubble and opened fire, with a bust of will a barrier sprung up between her and the incoming fire, deflecting the threat but the strain sent her stumbling. She tried to get up but her legs wouldn't support her, the Maraduer calmly stepped around the obstruction and took aim- and the Cannibals were upon it. A maddening frenzy of the lower echelon Reaper troops took it down in a flurry of violence; their massive gun arms swinging in long arcs bludgeoning the harvested Turian into a shapeless mass and then they began to feast.

Quietly the Asari got her feet under her and darted away from the creatures.

'She did it!' the thought was the only exultation Liara allowed herself. 'I have to get back to beacon, she could be- she might be-'

She hurdled over some rubble, 'Coming,' the thoughts, her thoughts, scattered in direct contrast to her focus- everything left, and more besides, narrowed down to one core absolute: She was going to get to the Beacon.

Husks hurled themselves from the skeletons of broken buildings, she battered them aside with a wave of her hands; the headache that erupted from the effort she ignored with equal disdain. 'Coming, Shepard, almost there. Wait, just wait for me.'

A bellowing roar from off to her right echoed through the shattered streets of London, '

'Brute, slow, stupid, close range combat, Shepard; I'm coming. Easy to avoid, keep moving,' The Asari sped through the broken rubble and bodies; she leaped over the scene of of a one sided battle that had left Alliance personal dead by the score and a handful of Brutes; 'Survivors? No, coming Shepard.'

"Liara, get down!" Her name surprised her, the warning did not, she rolled forward and the shot passed over her head. Something directly behind her roared and the earth shook as something big hit the earth.

"Scoped and drop-" Garrus stopped as she sped by without a glance or acknowledgment that he had probably saved her life.

"She's coming!" Liara shouted.

The Turian dropped his rifle, drew a pistol and ran after the Asari. He didn't need to be told who she was.

The two approached the crater in the middle of which stood the Beacon; a spearhead of white light lancing up through the dark sky. Everywhere there was war. In one part, a circle of soldiers fought in a circle, back to back, cutting down a steady wave of Husks and Cannibals. There a Brute smashed a Banshee to the ground with its massive claw and decapitated it only in turn to be attacked by a Marauders.

"They've gone mad," Garus mumbled. "Shepard did this?"

"Move!" Liara snapped and lept down the hill.

Liara ignored it all, one thought, only one thought, 'Coming, Shepard, wait, wait for me. I'm coming,' over and over again. Hot air grated her lungs, her feet felt like they weighed tons and she kept going.

She reached the light.

Too late.

Shepard curled around herself, arms wrapped around her belly. Something had torn, torn badly and she could feel things sliding around. Edges rubbing up against each other that had not been there moments before. Blood flowed steadily from her guts but she did not let the scream pass her clenched teeth.

She could see the sky.

Where the beam split the clouds apart she could see the stars and between them, streaking downwards were thousands of shooting stars. 'The Reaper fleet,' she realized. 'Just like when we fled Earth only this time they're the ones burning, falling.' Her lips pulled up at the corners.

Her legs wouldn't stop shaking, "So many wishes," she whispered. "Wish upon a star and look at them all. So many wishes can be made now. They're going to live, everyone is going to live and they can make their wishes now." she could barely see the stars now and was too weak to wipe away the salty mixture of blood and dirt that marred her sight.

"So many wishes, why can't I have one?"

And Liara was there. Shepard wasn't surprised.

A flash of an Omnitool and the pain was violently pushed away. She heard Liara's voice, calling out to someone for more medigel. 'It's okay', she thought. 'I got my wish.'

She could hear...something. People, screaming? Orders?

"...say again, Shepard is down. Need priority evac. Dammit, she just saved every living thing that can walk and talk. Get her out of here now!

"Garrus, she's...the bleeding won't stop!"

"I'm out of medi- one second. Who am I? You stupid- Shepard is down! What part of that fails to get through to you?"

"Garrus, talk to me! Hold on, Shepard. I love you, don't. Don't. Don't. Please don't."

Everything was so blurry. "Liara?" she whispered. Or thought she did. There was such a lovely color of blue above her. She thought she could see the stars in the blue. And the shadows deepened. She blinked.

Harbringer towered above her, two kilometers tall, crouching slightly as it settled slowly to the Earth. 'Mm, must be to tired to panic,' she thought. 'Wonder if its going to kill us. Nah, don't really care. Everything is so nice and blue. Soft, warm, blue.'

"Shepard," and she heard that damned voice through her entire brain.

She tried to snarl, tried to spit defiance at the dead but she couldn't even move. Just saw the blue that had two stars and it was raining. Hot, salty rain on her face, behind that lovely, raining blue Harbringer loomed.

"Shepard. You have destroyed us," Its eyes, three great streams of white, hard light pooled around her but she didn't blink.

'Blue protects me, I can sleep in; I love you Blue. Wait, that's not right. Not Blue...what?'

"Shepard, we are you salvation," she smiled. That heavy, awful voice couldn't hurt her, Blue was- 'Not blue. Li- uhm...so tired.'

"Garrus I'm losing her!"

"The shuttle's coming, just keep her-"

"Salvage- Husks!"

"Got you covered- command, we need evac now!"

She kept smiling at the blue, the rain. Some fell on her lips; her tongue lazily flickered. She felt ..something. 'Blue kisses, getting hard to see,' she felt safe.

"Garrus!" she knew that voice. "Don't go, please don't go Shepard. I came, I'm right here, Goddess please. You promised!"

And she could see perfectly. Directly in her line of sight she gazed up at the beautiful, tear stained face of Liara T'Soni and directly behind her, filling the sky overhead was Harbringer. Its eyes casting a halo of bale-white light around her love. And Liara was speaking, her lips were moving but Shepard couldn't hear anything but the shapes of that wonderful, soft mouth was so familiar, they spelled out the words: I love you.

But what Shepard heard was: "We die, we are the last; we were eternal, we were the final answer, we were Harbringer. Now we are dust."

Its eyes turned red, it bellowed. The Asari didn't even flinch, she could see Garrus now. He didn't seem to notice the noise or the Reaper.

And the ancient, ancient, dying machine roared, its voice filled her mind with black agony. She screamed. She screamed at the words, the meaning behind the words, the knowledge that came with the words and everything that followed after.

"You shall never know peace. The duty falls to you now and so you must know, know the duties you are bound too, know the name that you have earned; know your place, Harbringer! Learn," and the pain quantified.

"...She's stopped breathing..."

"Move, move, move!"

"Oh Goddess, please!"

"Liara, get out-"

"Someone get this hysterical blue bitch out of here!"

"Garrus, let go, I have to-"

"They've got her, we have to-"

"No response to stims. Get more gel in that wound'"

"Christ, you could fit a Krogan's fist in that hole."

"Shepard!"

"Get her out of here!"

"You promised!"

"She's flat-lining."

And inside, she kept screaming.


	2. Blue: Cerulean: One

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue: Cerulean

 

She drifted on a cerulean sea. Mirror smooth waters blending, moving, with that slow grace of something ancient, something satisfied with itself. She lay in that smooth, silk of life and gazed up into the skies; no great ball of harsh lights marred the perfect blue that stretched to the horizons, darkening as it moved away, fading down to the rich deep blue of the sea. It was impossible to know where the waters ended and the heavens began.

“Doctor T'Soni, this is a surprise.”

A ripple marred the surface of the waters.

“Why would that be Doctor? I've been here every day.”

“Well, yes but you've brought a friend. And you are?”

“Doc, I'm Garrus to my friends; you are not my friend since from what I understand, you're the guy who's going to kill Shepard.”

From below in the midnight blues of the depths something moved. 

“Dr. T'Soni, Commander Shepard has been brain dead for-”

“These readings do not indicate brain death!”

The waves grew, an ugly purple blossomed on the horizon marring the perfect line between sea and sky.

“You are right in essence Dr. T'Soni, however no matter how far above average Shepard's brain activity may be it is, as you can plainly see, flat-lined. It may be flat-lined at higher frequencies than the norm but she is still brain dead. You could lay bricks on that foundation!”

“Great bedside manner you have there, Doc.”

“And what justification does Alliance High Command have for casually throwing away its greatest?”

“Doctor T'Soni, please, listen to reason-”

“Oh I know all about the arguments Doctor. How her implants have boggled the best scientific minds-”

“That's exactly the point! She was completely physically healed in mere weeks, bones knit, internal organs repaired and even after all this time she hasn't shown even the slightest sign of muscular atrophy. Hell, if anything by my estimates she's in better shape now than her last physical. Something...changed her implants. They're running in ways no one has ever seen. Even that former Cerberus Agent-”

“Miranda. Jack calls her a Cerberus Cheerleader. Hey, there's an idea- let's call Jack in. You can explain this to her; she hasn't murdered a civilian since...is it Tuesday?”

Cerulean was dying. The blue was being pulled away, toward the horizon, into darkness. The sky too was being leeched of that beautiful blue. A wave broke over her mouth, she sputtered and tried to swim.

“It doesn't matter Mr. Garrus, Dr. T'Soni as you can plainly see I have my orde- Hey! Give those back! What are you doi...Don't EAT my orders!”

“Mmmm, I have to say Doc, these are perfect. Garnished with just the right amount of hypocrisy and bullshit.”

The quiet, it had been so quiet, fell away as she paddled feebly. The water was now pure darkness and cold. A cold that crept deep inside; she could feel it sliding through her, intrusive, a thief from the dark- here to rob her of all peace. 

The horizon rumbled.

“How dare you! I'm acting under the full authority of Alliance Command; I'm going to call security!”

“That wasn't helpful, Garrus.”

“I know. It was that or shoot him; what are they thinking? They really believe this is the right thing to do?”

“I...can understand it in a way. They could do a lot of good if they understood what's happened to her, how the implants have been- I would like to believe that part of her would be proud. I suppose. Being called to serve, one last time. It's been so long too; she hasn't moved since- she didn't...but she....”

“She couldn't keep every promise, Liara. She tried though; Spirits, we both know she tried.”

Thunder came from below. It surged from the depths, the horizon leapt upwards and the thunder became a roar- a wall of black water, as far as could be seen, came seething towards her. Black water consuming the wasted remaining threads of cerulean sky.

She opened her eyes.

“Ow,” she breathed.

 

Three things happened at once.

The monitoring devices around the room began to shriek. 

Liara began to shriek, she could make out a few words: Goddess', Shepard, Goddess' again then a whole bunch of Shepards and even more Goddess'. The occasional thank, please and dream thrown in.

And Shepard's left hand snaked out at whip-cracking speed, smacked the nearest noise machine, one the size of a toaster oven, and sent it screaming across the room to explode against the wall leaving a sizable dent. She sat up holding her now dangling left hand.

“Son of a bitch!” she cursed holding the throbbing limb as she sat up then she was buried in blue. Liara all but hurtled herself into Shepard, twining her arms around the soldier's torso, lips pressed frantically at her neck, jawline and moving up to her ear where warm breath tickled across the sensitive skin and her words came tumbling out, “Do not be a dream, Goddess, please do not be a dream, so many times I have woken from this dream, realized its a dream and cried and cried and cried, please do not be a dream, please, oh, please, please tell me you are not a dream; tell me-”

Shepard turned slightly so she could look at Liara, stilled her lips with a gentle kiss and whispered,   
“It's not a dream.”

“The dreams have said that too,” Liara mumbled, she had squeezed her eyes shut; as if hoping that if she did it hard enough, and this was a dream, she could sleep for as long as she wished.

Shepard reached up, cupped Liara's face gently and turned the other woman's head so now she was breathing into the asari's ear and she whispered, “I keep my promises.”

And the Liara kissed her and all she could think was, 'blue,' then her asari deepened the kiss and thoughts became more difficult while instinct took over wielding its favorites: desire and hope. That was until someone cleared their throats. 

They broke apart, Shepard could swear she heard Liara's smile as the other woman lay her head on Shepard's shoulder. Looking across the room Shepard spotted Garrus. He was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, studying the armored finger tips of one of his gauntlets. He glanced at her, “Oh hey Shepard,” he said, raising a hand in greeting. “Didn't notice you there.”

“Hey yourself,” she replied with equal casualness, still holding Liara she slowly began to run her hands over the asari's back. “What'cha doin'?”

“Not much,” the turian shrugged. “Came to see if an old friend had amazingly risen from the dead again and darn,” he snapped his fingers. “She has. Now I have to pay her for that poker game. Rotten luck.”

Liara's quiet chuckles were muffled by Shepard's hospital gown but continued to grow in volume until she pulled away laughing with ringing clarity. She wiped at her eyes still laughing, “I cannot- No, this is too... Oh Goddess Shepard, you're alive,” she turned to Garrus. “She's alive, so much has happened and then this- the you two are- Look at us. So fast, all so fast.”

She shook her head, closed her eyes a moment before leveling a steady gaze at both Shepard and Garrus and started again,”Look at you. Trying to be more relaxed and, I believe the term is, cool; you're both acting like children.. This is not a contest.”

“Of course it isn't a contest,” Garrus said nodding.

“Couldn't agree more,” Shepard added.

“And even if it were,” Garrus approached the bed, traded a glance with Shepard and they said at the exact same time, “I'd win.” 

Garrus' self control cracked, “Damn, it's good to see you, Shepard,” they clasped hands fiercely. “I mean vertically, not flat on your back. Been getting lazy in your old age I guess.” 

He sat down in a chair next to leaving plenty of room for where Liara was leaning against Shepard gently, her arm snaked around the soldier possessively. 

“Old? I'll show you-” Shepard cut off mid sentence; Garrus' hand was raised, palm out his head cocked to one side, listening. “Company,” he hissed and moved to stand flush against the wall, beside the doorway. Shepard heard too, the heavy sound of booted footfalls and-

“I'd recognize that screech anywhere,” Garrus murmured quietly. “Our friend Doctor Orders is back and he's bringing guests.” Shepard heard the Doctor's voice as he drew closer, “....want those two removed from the premises at once; they are interfering with the authority of the Earth Alliance.”

 

Leaning in quick, Shepard gave Liara a peck on the cheek and whispered, “I've got this. Just back me up.”

Nodding Liara responded quietly, “Always, Shepard.”

The security guards came in first, one moved left, the other moved right and up, folded their arms and did there best to look in total control of the situation; up the middle came the Doctor, “There's the asari and- Shepard?”

The human in question waved nonchalantly in greeting, “Ah, room-service. I'll be checking out now; please have my bags brought down to the lobby and call me a taxi would you? Be quick and I'll give you a shiny nickel.” 

“Shepard? Awake? Impossible,” The Doctor went to one of the medical devices and spotted the damage. Ignoring it he examined the surviving monitors and readouts. The two women on the bed could overhear his excited mumbles. He spun on his heel, “Commander, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to see you on your road to recovery; we'll be doing everything we can to patch you up and have you back on your feet. It'll take no time at all.”

Shepard nodded slowly, “You're right. No time at all,” she glanced at Liara. “We're leaving, now.”

The doctor smiled ingratiatingly; his entire body language changed. He relaxed, held his hands in front of him, fingers interlocked; the picture of the sympathetic and consummate professional “I'm afraid that's impossible Commander; you have just awoken and we have no idea what residual damage might remain. We have a battery of tests to run and then there's the therapy. All for your own good of course- you are, after all, a hero!”

Shepard shrugged a shoulder, “Funny, as I was waking up I heard I was in better shape than at my last physical.” The doctor's smile slipped a fraction of an inch. “I also heard,” Shepard continued. “Something about killing me.”

The security guards blinked, turned and stared at the doctor, the man visibly began to wilt, “It was- I had my orders,” like a mantra the words seemed to give the man back some resolve. “No, I'm sorry. It's impossible; you must remain.” 

Shepard replied, “I insist.” 

Liara's flesh lit with the glow of gathering biotic power. The hard blue light snapped and roiled over her skin throwing stark shadows across the wall. The doctor stepped back towards the door, “Don't just stand there, “ he shouted at the guards. “Arrest those two!” 

Garrus reached out and flung a friendly arm around each of the guards, “Sounds like an excellent idea; let's arrest Garrus Valkarian, close friend of the current turian Primarch who also happens to be one of the heroes of the Reaper War; not only that but let's also arrest Dr. Liara T'Soni, herself a hero of the Reaper War and Commander Shepard's partner, speaking of which let's also keep the recently recovered greatest of heroes prisoner in the hospital all on the authority of the doctor who was under orders to kill Commander Shepard not half an hour ago,” he squeezed the two men closer and like old friends and loudly whispered, “Tell me gentlemen, does the term: bowel shattering, cluster-fuck mean anything to you?”

 

 

They stepped out the front door of the hospital onto a large paved area. White buildings, solid, heavy, fortified, ran around the perimeter of a large open space. Around them groups of soldiers ran in formation. Several transports idled as other soldiers and not a few civilian workers loaded and unloaded cargo. High up in the sky several warships hovered over the base, their large shadows sliding across the pavement slowly. A squadron of short range fighters, engines blazing, ripped across the sky underneath the larger vessels. Beyond them the buildings grew in height and complexity stretching away until they faded to the horizon. The tarmac ended what looked several kilometers away, opening up to a vast stretch of blue water, still and quiet.

“Bowel shattering?” Shepard arched an eyebrow. She was dressed in a standard fleet outfit. Heavy blue pants, work shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a cap, none of the articles of clothing reflected her actual rank but it was the only clothes that she was willing to accept from the hospital's hasty donations. 

Garrus held up in hands, “Not my fault. I got it from your collection.” 

Shepard stopped mid-stride, “You touched my collection?” she said with a dangerous edge to her voice. Liara, who had been walking beside her answered for the turian, “We both did. It was...a difficult time, you were here and yet not. When he visited he noticed I had all your things from the Normandy; it was his idea to watch them,” she broke off, reached out blindly and took Shepard's hand.

“Thought it would help us remember the better moments,” Garrus finished.

Shepard just squeezed Liara's hand in response, then smiled sadly, “Driven to such an extreme where you willingly used my bad movie collection for comfort? Desperate times.”

“Honestly though, I do not think I will ever understand your obsession with those movies of yours. What did you call them?”

“B Movies,” Shepard replied grinning. “Hey, everyone has to have a hobby.” 

She glanced around, “Where are we?” 

Liara said, “Japan, the country was spared comparatively. No one's sure why but The Reapers came in, took out all the air and sea power Japan had and moved on. The leading theory is they believed the island would act as a natural prison, no need to increase the body count with such a large population in a relatively small landmass. The infrastructure is largely intact. The Alliance moved their central government here and has been supervising the reconstruction from Tokyo ever since.”

Reaching out, Garrus pulled the brim of Shepard's cap low, concealing half of the Spectre's face in shadow. “You want to keep a low profile,” he said. “Considering you are the single most famous sentient ever, your first day back on your feet would be more relaxed without the-” he cut himself mid-sentence then finished. “Fans.”

“Fans?” Shepard asked. “I have fans?”

“Yes,” Liara replied. “By now, every living thing knows your name and face, Shepard.”

Shepard paused and her companions slowed, turning toward her. “I've been avoiding the issues,” Shepard admitted slowly. “But how long have I been-” and then she wobbled, her knees gave out and she started to fall. Her instincts wanted her to move her arms, arrest her downward plunge by flinging out her hands and intercept the rapidly approaching concrete but they wouldn't listen; then two pairs of hands came into her field of vision for a split second and her plunge was arrested.

“Got you,” Garrus barked.

 

“Shepard, are you all right?” Liara demanded.

Shifting her weight in their shared grip to test her legs, Shepard nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think I'm ok-” for the second time biology interrupted her. This time it was a very loud growl from her stomach and then all she could think about was food. She grinned sheepishly, “You wouldn't happen to know where we can get a burger?”

 

“Remind me how you lived long enough to bring an end to an enemy that had been habitually raining genocide on this entire galaxy for millions of years?” Garrus asked eying Shepard's tray. On a plate sat the most obscene amalgamation of ground beef, grease, ketchup, grease and apparently a detonated salad bar, with extra grease. Around the edge of the plate was a sizable mound of fries, drowning miserably in ketchup.

As Shepard took her first bite of the burger her eyes rolled back in what looked like bliss, she swallowed her bite, remarked, “I've been needing this for so long,” and took another massive chunk out of her burger. Liara cautiously took one of the fries and nibbled on the end of it, raising both eyebrows she bit off the top half. Chewing she said, “These have a simple flavor but I find them enjoyable,” she finished the fry. “But I do not understand what connection they have, either socially or anthropologically with the country of France.”

They were seated at a table in the far corner of tiny restaurant five minutes or so by foot from the hospital. Shepard had asked for a greasy spoon which, surprisingly Liara had understood. Garrus announced he knew a place though he did want a better term would have been 'a greasy everything'. The restaurant itself was small, tucked on a street corner taking up the ground floor of a taller building. The rest of the building was abandoned for the most part. Shepard had signs of repair work, replaced windows, scaffolds but had noted that for the most part it looked reasonably intact. They had taken seats in a far corner, directly opposite the entrance with their backs to the wall. Shepard's food had arrived quickly with both Liara and Garrus declining any for themselves up until Liara had stolen a french fry.

“I don't get understand something,” Shepard stated, she took a sip of her drink. “I barely see any war damage. No rubble or wreckage anywhere. Hell, what little construction I have seen seems more day-to-day stuff. Road repair, window cleaning,” another sip. “That has me wondering-”

Garrus interrupted, “One of the first things that was salvaged from The Reapers had a lot to do with it. Turns out The Crucible just, you could say, fried their brains. Their bodies were mostly intact and what production points that had been built were mostly intact.”

Shepard allowed the conversation to be railroaded, she trusted Garrus, “Production points?”

Garrus' voice turned grim, “Interment camps. Reprocessing. Where they made their armies Shepard. Where they took our people and turned them into weapons.” He looked away for a moment. “I personally led the liberation efforts for a few of them on Earth right after London and then around a dozen on Palavan. Not fun,” he shook his head. “But we got the survivors out all right and made a hell of a discovery in the bargain.”

“Some see it as a bargain with the devil,” Liara murmured. 

“I can see it that way,” Garrus replied. “But can you imagine the reconstruction efforts without it? What's been done so far might have taken centuries and in addition the races are still working together; not focusing on just their own repairs and possibly even fighting over new resources.”

“Care to fill me in?” Shepard asked quietly.

“Right, sorry,” Garrus crossed one leg over the other and looked up, staring into space. “The Reapers used nano-tech, Shepard. Similar to your implants but far, far more advanced. From what little I understand their real ...some say potential...is still far beyond us but what didn't take long was some simple blunt work reprogramming.”

Liara continued, “What he means is within a very short time the races learned how to program the nanos to basically recycle the rubble. It was no longer necessary to clear away rubble, the nanos would break it down into separate elements that could be used for reconstruction itself. Near one-hundred percent recycling really.”

“Wait,” Shepard put down her burger, her eyes hard. “The entire galaxy is using Reaper-tech? Every civilized world is allowing pretty much untraceable, Reaper-based machines that can pull anything apart atom by atom to do as they see fit?”

“No, no,” Liara said quickly. “There were very careful studies done. Everything was performed in perfect isolation at the beginning- controlled laboratories, airless moons for example and many people, Garrus and myself among them, voiced similar concerns...but....”

Garrus finished for her, “But then the races started falling apart. There were more than a few near misses that could have triggered another war. That damn merc army that Aria put together, turned out they had a lot of access to resources for reconstruction. Illegal mines, stockpiles, stolen hardware, mechs that could be used as a labor force, even slaves for the less physical work. And they offered it to any race willing to pay their prices,” he sighed. “The turians considered it. It was damn close, I managed to convince The Primarch not to go through with it but it was a near thing.”

“The Batarians had no trouble accepting the offer, I even got reports that they were given a discount,” and Liara laughed bitterly. “Bulk rates.”

“It gets better,” Garrus said, “The Galactic market was in ruins and The Volus were not willing to assist in its reestablishment unless their worlds got priority in the reconstruction, despite the fact that other worlds, like Earth, Palavan or Thessia needed to rebuild their infrastructures much more.”

Shepard shot him a glance, “Never thought you'd play favorites, Garrus.”

He shrugged, “It's just a matter of numbers. Remember what you said about cold, hard numbers on The Normandy? More of our worlds were devastated than the Volus' worlds.”

Shepard considered that and had to agree, “I get it. I hate it but I get it.” She nibbled at her food but her heart, nor stomach, were really in it any more, “Any other brights spots?”

“The Citadel,” Liara said.”

“What about it?”

“It moved back to The Serpent Nebula.”

“By itself,” Garrus added.

“And the bad news?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, she's figured out how the galaxy works,” Garrus said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, the bad news is the arms closed and sealed themselves shut. Attempts have been made to cut a way in but whatever The Citadel is made of has made that near impossible.” 

He shrugged, “Blowing a hole in the damn thing could work, but it would take a lot of concentrated effort and there's a real chance that it could cause permanent damage, maybe even destroy The Citadel.”

“Don't forget the survivors,” Liara said.

“Survivors?” Shepard started. “On The Citadel?”

“The Reapers only held The Citadel for a few days,” Liara explained. “And that was just to keep it from the other races. The most popular theory is that they didn't have time to purge the station of all the millions of people stranded.” She rested her hand on Shepard's, “It is only a popular theory though.”

“It was decided that things were falling apart faster than they could be put back together,” Liara went on. “So focus was put on understanding and using The Reapers own technology to assist in the reconstruction.”

Garrus chuckled, clasping his hands in front of him, he stared at Shepard, his eyes unblinking. “You have to love the irony. The Reapers came to harvest all advanced life in the galaxy and now here we are, harvesting them.”

The victors will harvest from the destroyed and grow stronger so as to face what is. As our time ends your people will harvest us. Learn from us, grow from us. Perhaps you will turn your new-found strength upon each other. That is acceptable. The victors will grow stronger from that still.

Shepard put her burger down, nausea crawled through her guts and she could feel harsh bile suddenly churning at the back of her throat. She swallowed with difficulty. 

“Shepard?” Liara asked. “What is it? You've turned pale.”

“Nothing,” Shepard denied and stopped herself. “No, its something, but later. I want to- I need to get back on track. It can wait till then,” she squeezed Liara's hand, “It'll keep, trust me.”

Reluctantly Liara nodded in reply but did not let go of Shepard either, “Each world worked together to insure using the nanotechnology was safe with the most basic of tasks and after-” she paused and amended. “A time it was decided to allow it. After that reconstruction accelerated accordingly. In fact the greatest challenge now is not the procurement of resources but the transportation of those resources to where they are most needed. Sadly, this solution is only viable for bulk construction. Things like technological infrastructure are still in short supply. But progress is being made.”

Shepard nodded and said nothing. The silence stretched between them as if by some unspoken agreement everyone knew what was coming, how hard it would be for them all and had agreed by silent consensus to let Shepard get it started.

“A short time,” Shepard said quietly. “Much longer, a time, a few near misses; you've both been very careful not to state any specific times for any of this. You could be talking about weeks, months,” she blinked and forced herself to continue. “Years even.” 

Shepard stopped, looked down breathing deeply, one breath, two, three and she continued, “What I'm trying to say is, I need to know; how long was I, dead again, I guess.”

Liara sighed and rubbed at her temples, “This is going to be hard Shepard. I'm here-”

“We're here,” Garrus added. “Well, until I'm not. Duties to Palavan etc. etc.”

“The truth is that it's been-”

 

And then Garrus looked up, muttered “Oh damn,” and them bahhed like a sheep. The effect was instantaneous; Liara reached over, grabbed the brim of Shepard's hat and pulled it down, hard, effectively concealing the Commander's face. Then she leaned forward, put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands- as if she was suddenly very tired. Beneath the lowered edge of the brim Shepard could see a trio of figures moving through the restaurant, she noted how they would stop at random tables, smiling warmly, exchange a few words with the diners before moving on. They were coming closer and with every step Garrus grew visibly more relaxed and disinterested while Liara worked harder to conceal her face in her hands. 

“Greetings brother-turian,” said the person leading the trio. Shepard examined him from beneath the brim of her hat. He was tall, a bit thin. His jumpsuit was a nondescript grey with dark blue overalls on over it. He had thinning hair and an irritating smile. He held his hands in front of him, palms together as if in prayer. The two others looked similar, both in what they were wearing and how they presented themselves. “Have you heard the good wo-”

“I'm really sorry,” Garrus interrupted. “But as I keep telling you I'm not interested. Thanks for the offer though.” 

He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair emphasizing his point. The human continued to smile, “Another time,” he turned to Shepard. Just as he opened his mouth Shepard picked up her burger and took a massive bite and began to chew loudly. Holding the burger just right covered everything but her eyes and the noises from her chewing prevented real conversation; smoothly the man focused his attention on Liara- and froze.

“You!” he hissed between suddenly clenched teeth. Liara visibly wilted. “The cyan wolf-bitch!”

And Shepard saw red. Part of her idly commented that this was pretty much unfamiliar behavior as she held the man over her head by one hand, while his two companions gawked. And it wasn't. Her arm was trembling with the effort of holding the man up and the idea of her being weak repulsed her. She wanted more, more power, more strength and her body obeyed. The trembling stopped cold and knew, knew all the way to the core that one tiny squeeze would snap his neck. 

“What did you say?” Shepard asked dangerously, quietly. 

He kicked at her, she slapped his efforts away, he grabbed her arm and she ignored it with contempt, he looked her in the face....

“Goddess!” he gurgled and his two companions, who had been gawking at their companion saw her as well. 

The fell on their knees before Shepard, “Forgive us, my lady!” the one of the right cried. 

“We did not realize-” the other began and then broke off in a fit of hysterical sobbing.

Shepard stared at them, her eyes shifting from the man she held aloft, to the weeping one, to the one mumbling rapidly under her breath and then Liara was there, “Shepard,” she said sharply and loudly. “Let him-” and her mouth snapped shut. 

“Oh boy,” Garrus muttered standing up. “Here we go.”

Everyone else in the diner had stopped what they were doing and turned to watch the action- fights were not uncommon in these hard times and entertainment rare but at Liara's very loud use of Shepard's name all hell broke loose.

 

With various cries of “It is her!” “Can I have your autograph?” “Let me take a picture of-” and a many, many more demands, praises, pleas and offers the people surged forward. Garrus moved to intercept and was roughly shoved out of the way. Shepard took a step back, absently dropping the man who a few seconds before had been the focus of her attention.

He landed with an audible “Oof” but wasting no time he scrambled to his feet.

“Go!” he commanded one of his companions. “Inform the others of this days events!”

The third companion, the one who had not started sobbing leaped to her feet and forced her way through the crowd, running through the entrance and down the street shouting all the while, “She wakes! She walks among us once again! The Goddess has returned! The Shepard lives again!”

The crowd surged forward, a cacophony of voices raised in greetings, celebration, request, and other meanings. She could make out snatches of words here and there, “thank you so-” “My children are ali-” “Saved us all-” and the mass was so full of excited faces. A mixture, seething mass of limbs and colors, civilian, military, young and old, male and female. Hands reaching, palms extended, welcoming, embracing and all she could see was a thing that was made of 'take'. 

Shepard knew they were just people, people she had sworn to protect, to save and now she was the one who needed saving from the people; yet her instincts were screaming again, a red hue suffused her vision and something inside her demanded more. The reaction was like an adrenalin rush- the seething mass of people slowed down, or appeared to but it still wasn't enough. Somehow she needed 'More!' With the command given everything snapped to a near standstill and she saw the way out. It was through the crowd of course, people would probably get hurt but what other option was there? Her fists itched, a need for violence sang inside, thrummed deep and heavy and-

Garrus pulled the fire alarm. 

A loud alarm bell started ringing. “Out the front, behind you,” Garrus shouted loudly indicting the proper direction. What had been a crowd of people became a rout as they all made a break for the entrance and away from the imagined threat In a moment the restaurant was empty save for the three of them. 

“I think we had better go,” Liara said moving toward the entrance herself.

A moment later they were walking away from the eatery casually but with no small amount of haste. After a few minutes to lose themselves in the crowd Shepard said, “You're going to get in trouble.”

Garrus put a hand to his chest, “I'll have you know that I am a very important person,” his mandibles twitched. “Diplomatic immunity has its perks.”

“And they did push you,” Liara added. “Clearly they represented a threat to your person. You were only protecting yourself.”

“Through non-violent means,” Garrus nodded. “I'm getting pretty good at diplomacy.”

“How long?” Shepard said, crushing any frivolity in the conversation flat. 

Liara reached out her hand but Shepard twitched away. “No, no more. How long was I-” she stopped herself. “I'm sorry, Liara. Just- I wake up. I learn that The Alliance wanted me dead, and then all this other-” she waved a hand helplessly.

“Not here,” Liara said in understanding. “I've been given an apartment. We can go there, it's not far.”

 

 

They sat in a tiny living room. It was rather spartan but clean. There were no decorations on the walls save for a few cracks. The furniture itself was plain but functional. An L-shaped sofa took up one side of the room with two other large chairs opposite and a small table taking up the center of the room. The sun had begun to set by the time the three of them had arrived so the Liara had turned on a few lamps set on tables in the corner. The room was cast in a soft orange glow as the lights bounced off the pale walls casting gentle contrasting pools of illumination and shadow.

Shepard sat on the sofa, Liara a short distance away but not next to her. Garrus was in one of the chairs. No one said anything. The two aliens were watching Shepard closely. The human sat rigidly, upright. Her back straight, knees together and her face an expressionless mask.

“Two years?” she said again.

“Roughly eighteen months to tell the truth,” Garrus corrected.

“Seventeen months, twenty-nine days,” Liara said softly. Shepard glanced at her; the asari was staring at her hands clasped in her lap. “I counted.”

“I was dead?”

“They claim so,” Garrus went on. “We found you at the base of the beam, Liara and me. We did what we could but there wasn't a lot. I called in an airlift, medical emergency but there was still so much chaos. They got to you but it was awhile.” He shifted his attention to Liara. “She wouldn't leave you.”

Shepard nodded, looking at the table, but not seeing it. “I think I remember hearing something like that. Didn't someone call you a...”

“Blue bitch,” Liara said still looking at her hands then she sighed. “I was hurting, hysterical I guess.”

“Guess?” Garrus asked. “They had to sedate you, Liara. I was physically restraining you and was terrified you were going to toss me through a wall.”

The asari took in a shuddering breath, “That- Yes.”

Garrus held up his hands, “Issue resolved. We had this talk already.”

“Of course,” Liara said. “It's just a hard thing to remember. But I'm not important now.”

Shepard moved even closer, “Yes you are.” 

Then she said, “So then I died? Again?”

Liara took another deep breath, “You tell it Garrus, I- I'm going to get something to drink. Would you like anything? Shepard?”

“Anything with alcohol,” Garrus replied. “That won't kill me of course.”

Shepard shook her head. 

Liara stood up and moved into a tiny kitchenette in the corner of the apartment and opened a primitive refrigerator as Garrus continued. 

“We waited for two days, that's how long it took for someone to get back to us, can't blame anyone really. They were still mopping up the remaining Reaper infantry. Whatever you did wiped out the Reapers themselves but the ground troops just went berserk. Turning on each other and everything else around them. I took out a brute that was engaged in mortal combat with a park bench,” he paused as if recollecting. “Funny thing- I think the the bench was winning.”

Shepard snickered quietly but didn't say anything leaving Garrus no choice but to fill the silence with the rest of the story.

“Anyhow, after two days we were told they had done everything they could and according to their best estimates you were clinically brain dead. Liara refused to believe it of course and demanded to see you,” Garrus' mandibles flickered again in humor. “Poor doctor never knew what hit him.”

Shepard's eyebrows went up, “She used biotics?”

“No, she hit him, one punch, “ Garrus made a twirling gesture. “Bam, he was down. The next doctor was a bit less...reticent.”

“She didn't get in trouble?”

“I don't think she gave a damn,” Garrus said. “I don't know what she did when she went in to see you, I stayed outside to watch the door but when she came out the first thing she did was head back to the Normandy. Before I knew it, you were being transferred to the most intact hospital on the planet- that would be here,” he paused again to consider. “I think that was Alliance Command. Everything was...crazy. We'd won, there were celebrations and others were trying to get the repair work started right away. Some of the fleet wanted to destroy The Reapers corpses; a Batarian battleship was caught trying to tow some to the nearest relay, claimed it was part of their 'cut'.”

Liara came back from the kitchen, she placed a small glass of some odd yellow liquid in front of Garrus and held a narrow stemmed flute glass that bubbled. 

Garrus nodded his thanks, picked up his drink and went on, “It was after you got here that I think Liara took a hand. Suddenly the hospital was getting flooded with hi-tech equipment and specialists from every species in the fleet arrived.”

“That was not all from my efforts,” Liara interjected. “Every race was, is, grateful for what Shepard had done and wanted to pay her, pay you, back.” 

She took a sip of her drink, “The end result though was the concuss that you...you...damnit,” that got Shepard's attention.

“Since when do you swear?” she asked. 

Liara smiled a half smile, one corner of her mouth arcing upwards. “I've grown to like that word. It has its uses. Give me a moment, I've never actually talked about this before, just had to live with it.”

“I'm sorry, Liara,” Shepard said quietly and finally moved all the way across the sofa to sit next to Liara who leaned her head against the human's shoulder and visibly relaxed. “Not your fault.”

“But I was dead,” Shepard repeated. “Right?”

“It was...a puzzle,” Liara said. “Your brain activity was much higher than usual, everyone agreed on that but all the parts of your mind had the exact same level of activity at all times and there was no response to outside stimuli. The only physical operations left were your heart, lungs and digestion.”

“So they called it 'Braindead',” Garrus finished.

“Then they tried to kill me,” Shepard stated quietly. “I could use that drink now.”

 

The small table in the middle of the living room was covered with empty glasses, outside the night was deep and heavy. Waiting.

“I should have asked this earlier, “ Shepard said breaking the silence again. She sat in the corner of the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, head resting on the back. In one hand she held an empty glass, the other was stretched far enough so she and Liara could grasp hands. The last few rounds had been drunk in quiet. “What happened to the rest of my crew?”

“Short version?” Garrus asked. “All alive, believe it or not. Not all together whole and hearty but alive.”

“Vega lost an eye,” Liara said. “I did what I could to get him a adequate replacement but I lost track of him. Ashley as well. Last I heard she was sent to assist in the rebuilding of Eden Prime.”

“Tali headed back to Ranoch,” Garrus added. 

“What about you two?” Shepard asked.

“I was there,” Garrus replied. “But I was ordered to return to Earth a few weeks ago. Some sort of negotiation thing. It was boring, I'm heading back tomorrow actually. I can stay though-”

“No,” Shepard shook her head. “You miss her and I'm willing to bet she misses you.”

“Probably just my body,” Garrus hedged, Shepard grinned. “But still, Shepard, she'd understand if-”

“She knows,” Liara said. “I sent messages to everyone a few hours ago.”

“Ah,” Garrus said. “Then, if I was a betting man, and I am, I predict she's on her way here. Which will make things convenient.”

“And the others?” Shepard pressed.

“Javvik vanished,” Liara said. “Last I saw he said his vengeance was not finished. He said goodbye, that he'd be in touch and just walked away. This was still in London. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Garrus said, “She was the last who saw him too.”

Shepard stretched, “Getting a little tired,” she grumbled. “EDI? Joker?” 

“Still on The Normandy,” Liara replied tipping the last of her drink back and swallowing. She pretended not notice Shepard watching her move. “I can find out their current assignment if you like, I think Traynor is still on board as well.” 

She put her drink on the very edge of the table, that was all the room there was, “She had strong feelings for you,” she said to Shepard.

“Noticed that did you?” Shepard asked. “I havn't been crushed on in- well-”

Liara blinked slowly, smiled a tiny bit and pressed on, “I'd like to think I was a bit more sophisticated in my interest than a mere crush, but no Shepard. It was no crush. A few days after you were moved here she showed up.”

Shepard sat up, “Oh boy.”

“She was hurting of course,” Liara continued. “We all were but she came, well...actually she came to offer me comfort. True, she broke down when she saw you but- well, she talked to me. Asked questions, head stories, offered a few of her own,” again Liara smiled at a memory and then lay her head on Shepard's thigh. Rolling onto her back she looked up at Shepard. “Apparently you confused real world tactics with chess strategy.”

Shepard groaned, “Lose one game of chess.”

“Jack's still teaching; Earthside, though. Grissom hasn't been rebuilt yet,” Garrus said. “Not sure what happened to Jacob, got a card when his son was a born.”

“A son?” Shepard replied. “I'm happy for him.” 

But she was lying.

“Zaed? Kasumi?” 

“Gone,” Garrus answered. “They visited, paid their respects and went back to whatever they did before the war.”

She was just going through the motions.

“Miranda?” 

“She's here,” Liara said. “On the base, you'll probably see her tomorrow.”

There was a hole.

And she couldn't stand it anymore.

“Excuse me,” Shepard shifted her weight, Liara sat up. “Have to use the bathroom.”

“Through there,” Liara pointed to a door at the other end of the room. 

Shepard opened the door and found herself in a tiny bedroom. The double-bed took almost the entire space. A wall-closet was half open on the right with a enough room for one person to squeeze by the bed to get to it. A door led off to the left and there was the bathroom.

She put her weight on the edge of the sink and stared at her reflection. Her face felt fake, she poked her cheeks with one finger almost imagining the synthetic things inside her.

Something...changed her implants. They're running in ways no one has ever seen.

How much changed? Eighteen months worth of change. What did that even mean.

You did good, child. You did good.

“I don't feel that way, sir,” she said to the air. She ran some water in the sink, let it run over her hands and watched as it followed the contours of her skin; beading here, rushing there. The flow of water splitting around some unseen imperfection in her flesh. She could imagine that clean, blue water rushing through her- washing away the machines, purging her, cleaning her inside and out.

She remembered the cerulean sea.

She remembered being safe and not ever wanting it to end.

And she hated herself for it.

She reentered the living room. The others had cleared the table and were talking in the kitchen. 

“-something's really wrong,” Garrus was saying. “She's overloaded. First day up and bam, right into The Flock.”

“And waking up to hearing how your own government was a just moments away from ending your life,” Liara added.

“Concerned about me?” Shepard asked.

Friends would have looked ashamed, friends would have tried to find excuses for being caught out, friends would have denied it; comrades-in-arms, loved ones, family, didn't do that.

“Yes,” Garrus said plainly. 

Shepard held up a hand, “I appreciate it Garrus but I'm okay, really.”

“You will be,” Garrus agreed putting his hand on her shoulder, firm. Supportive. She let it, it might mean something someday. “But you're not now.”

“I'll be-,” she began.

“Save it,” Garrus put a little authority in his voice, she recognized the tone- she had used it often enough. “You've always put others first, Shepard. There was good reason at the time but that's over now. You've done what you set out to do.”

“Don't patronize me, Garrus,” Shepard warned, only half-joking.

“Who's patronizing?” He shrugged, looking innocent- a feat considering how expressive turians were. “Look, Shepard, the war over. Now you don't have to worry about anyone but yourself. So worry, talk, share,” he paused. “That or drink yourself blind.”

“What? And risk losing to you on the next time we're The Citadel?

“I could be drunk, blind, standing on one leg and the out of ammunition and I'd still beat you Shepard.”

“That sounds like a story,” Liara murmured, she had come behind Shepard and embraced her. She felt the human, her human, stiffen then force herself to relax. 

“I-” Shepard tried. Then she, almost against her will she turned her head and saw Liara. Saw those blue, blue eyes. She took a breath, then another and without looking away she dove into the sea.

“Okay,” she blinked. “Okay, I will.”

 

“Then on that note,” Garrus said, stretching. “I'm out.”

“What about talking?” Shepard asked, she knew the answer but....

“I think that's covered,” Garrus leaned forward toward Shepard, his eyes intent, the message clear; 

Talk to her! 

They returned to the living room and Garrus opened the front door, stepped through, turned back, “I met what I said in the hospital, Shepard. It really sucks I have to pay you your poker winnings.” and then he was gone, the door shutting with a quiet click. 

Shepard sat down on the sofa with a groan and pushed her palms over her eyes. She could hear Liara moving around the sofa, making as little noise as possible- the silence, it had weight, she imagined giant, invisible, springs tightening; the creak of metal under stress, she could feel it inside her mind. She could feel Liara standing in front of her, the warmth, the softness and the anxiety. It poured off her like a miasma.

“Shepard?” The asari asked quietly. Shepard opened her mouth to reply and the words died in her mouth. She heard Liara take another breath, a fortifying breath and then she said, “Honey?”

The springs snapped; Shepard's arms shot out she pulled Liara into a tight embrace, burying her face in the asari's shirt. The suddenness of the move must have startled Liara for it was a few seconds before Shepard felt the gentle caress of her hand's, her fingers, moving through Shepard's hair.

Shepard clung to her, her fingers splayed against Liara's back, arms squeezing, moving resettling and tightening again, her nose squashed uncomfortably against the asari's firm belly but she didn't care- she wanted to, she needed to feel- something. Anything. Through it all Liara made gentle, comforting sounds, a whispered word here, a shushing sound there and her fingers never stopped moving; tracing a lock of her from root to to its end, the other fingers moving, sliding caressing along Shepard's skin, pressure, gentle pressure sending tiny sparks of sensation through her mind. 

But she didn't cry. She could feel the push, the cascade right behind her eyes but she held it back. Maybe later but not now. In her time, not in its time. She insisted, she forced, she fought- she won. The impulse eased and with a sigh Shepard leaned back; Liara made to follow, her asked her question with a look and Shepard pattered her lap in agreement. Liara sat on the comfortable seat of Shepard's thighs while Shepard snaked one arm around her shoulder, the other behind her knees and cradled her asari close. 

One started to rock the other- neither was sure which had begun. Had Shepard started rocking Liara? Or had Liara begun to rock then Shepard moved in conjunction? It didn't matter, it was a comfort.   
And in that comfort they remained. Through open windows they could hear life continue on; on the street below someone was shouting, whether in celebration or outrage was impossible to tell. The sky hummed with shuttles and other transports. For a handful of minutes the air rumbled gently as high overhead a capital ship eased into the upper atmosphere, leaving the night-side of Earth for the ever-night of outer-space. Dogs barked, people laughed, far, far away somewhere a siren wailed into earshot then faded away, the echo bouncing around the buildings and back into relative quiet.

Life went on.

The world lived.

“Anderson's dead,” Shepard said, and it was like hearing glass shatter.

Liara said nothing.

“I'm guessing the brass assumed as much?” Shepard asked. 

Sitting up slightly Liara replied, “He was listed as MIA, there was a ceremony. He was honored.”

“When?”

“Several weeks after the war ended.”

Shepard nodded, looked away, eased her arm out from under Liara's legs and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, she did not release her embrace however.

“For me, he died just a few hours ago,” Liara said nothing, perhaps she wanted to, perhaps she didn't.

“I shot him.”

The asari's sharp intake of breath was her only response.

“It-” Shepard broke off, pinched the bridge of her nose.

Look at the power they wield, look what they can do!

“It was the Illusive Man,” Shepard continued. “He'd ...done something to himself. He believed it would give him power and it did. He was able to control me, control my hand, my fingers.” 

She examined her palm, remembered the weight of the gun in her hand, the burst of actual terror, shattering through her as she felt her finger squeeze the trigger not of her own will. The way Anderson's body had jerked but he had not fallen, could not fall because The Illusive Man would not allow it- and how close, how close she had come to screaming.

“Shepard,” Liara breathed, a hand, gentle, soft, caressing her cheek. She could feel the blue.

“I killed him,” Shepard said. “He got...upset. Angry. I think I made him believe he had been indoctrinated. It gave me a chance and I shot him.”

“Then you opened the arms of The Citadel?”

Shepard nodded dumbly, the memories swimming through her mind like yesterday because for her they had been yesterday. She had killed her mentor yesterday, she had ended the war yesterday, she stopped the Reapers yesterday, she had been dying yesterday, she had died yesterday.

And it was today. Eighteen months later and it was only today.

She tried to push them back again, tried to push the need away, the prickling behind her eyes grew, she pushed back, she fought again, she even tried to get angry but this time- 

-she lost.

 

 

“I left him behind!” and she cried.

And the words came out, a flowing, endless tide, inter-spaced with choked out, fought over and lost cracks of grief, fought and lost; again and again, she fought and she lost and through it all Liara cradled Shepard to her breast, holding her, holding on, weathering it, weathering her, moving through it, moving with it, waiting for it to pass; waiting for her.

And when the time was right, she asked a question, knowing it was a dangerous thing to do, but it was the only thing to do.

“And then what happened?”

Shepard wiped at her nose awkwardly, trying not to mess Liara's shirt. “I uh...what?”

“And then what happened?” Liara repeated patiently.

“After, uh, after I opened the doors, I...we were sitting on a … and there was the fleets all around us. We could see everything. He, Anderson, called it a hell of a view. I remember the Earth, hanging there behind all these ships, all this death...” Shepard remembered. “It was so blue.”

Liara touched her forehead to Shepard's, her eyes closed, “Keep going,” she whispered.

“He- he told me he- he thought I'd make a good mother,” Shepard's sob cracked, mutating into a strangled giggle.

“Keep going,” Liara whispered again.

“Told me he was proud of me,” a great shuddering breath, another. “called me 'child.'

Liara held her tight, it was almost over.

Shepard seemed to pull into herself, “Then he died.”

“Sshhhhh,” Liara comforted, and this time she was the one doing the rocking. Easing back and forth, even while sitting in Shepard's lap, now she cradled Shepard against her chest, her soldier resting in the crux between should and neck, breathing deeply, breathing slowly, rocking and Liara hummed. She hummed tuneless memories; she sang gentle songs of Thessia, songs her mother had sung to her, tunes of earth and sky; humming again tunes she had heard or remembered from half-forgotten memory- their source unknown, their words forgotten, the melodies remains; she hummed, she sung, she rocked all the while Shepard was quiet, listening, breathing, living.

“Then Harbinger appeared,” Shepard's voice was muffled but the quiet, flat tone chilled her, still she rocked. 

She kept rocking as Shepard told her the rest; of Harbinger's words, his declaration, about The Cycle, The Crucible. How she had forced herself back to the beam. She told Liara of dying on Earth. How Harbinger had been there as well.

“It said I'd never know peace,” Shepard intoned. “It called me Harbinger; I didn't care then. You were there.”

“You kept your promise,” Liara whispered. “I'm sorry.”

And they were quiet again.

 

“It was cerulean,” Shepard said, still embracing, still embraced. “The water and sky, where I was for eighteen months, it was blue, cerulean blue.”

“Tell me,” Liara replied.

Shepard pulled back far enough so she could see Liara, look into her eyes; she reached up and cupped Liara's face in her palms. “The sea was blue, the sky matched it perfectly and I couldn't see where one ended or the other began.”

Liar turned her face left, pressing her lips against Shepard's palm, not looking away, not breaking the connection.

“I- I felt safe there, Liara. I didn't want to come back, I didn't ever think, I was just there but- if I had had a choice...I felt so safe.” she closed her eyes, brought her hands away from her asari's face, anticipating the rejection.

She felt Liara straighten up slowly, Shepard pulled away, knowing that soon that comfortable weight would lift itself away, and instead she heard the rustle of clothes. She opened her eyes to see Liara pulling her shirt over her head. She then stood up and without a word, she unbuckled the clasp of her pants; they fell to the floor without a sound, bunching gracelessly at her feet, to prove a perfect counterpoint to the moment, Liara single step out of them was grace itself. She stood before Shepard, completely nude. Her skin, normally a uniform blue, now in this dark room, seemed to shift hue, from the blue Shepard loved, to deep purples in shadow, midnight blues and cerulean. Like the sea.

“Liara?” Shepard. “What-?”

Her asari smiled, it blossomed across her features, wide, warm, comfort. “Come with me,” Liara replied holding out her hands. “We can be safe.”

Shepard reached out to her.

 

 

They lay facing each other on Liara's bed. 

There bodies touching.

Fingers intertwined.

Legs intertwined.

Breathing.

“Liara,” Shepard began.

“Love.” 

“I told...it...the machine, I had one regret, one thing I wished I could have done differently.”

“Go on.”

“I only told you I loved you once.”

 

Liara kissed her; closed her eyes and when she opened them again ebon glittered.

“Embrace-” and Shepard's fingers on her lips interrupted her.

“Not eternity,” Shepard whispered. “Just you.”

Liara's smile again, that smile, it told her of the sea. 

“Embrace me.”


	3. Blue: Cerulean: Two

Drain Brameged Inc. proudly presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue: Cerulean: Two

 

It always started out the same: A dead woods wreathed in fog. Flickering through the trees shadows wound there way to nowhere; gathering in clearings to let accusatory whispers echo between broken, dead things; words from the dead to the dead. Whispers for her alone.

And she ran. 

The weight of her battle armor, the shifting of the weapons on her back- these provided no comfort. Some inborn, absolute belief told her so and no conviction she dragged from the depths of her mind would assay it. 

And she ran.

She ran after the boy. The boy who continually ignored her calls, her pleas, her desperation. He ran, contrary to all instinct, toward the blood red light. The light that roared. A baleful thing, slanting between gnarled branches to color dying earth and there the shadows would gather. They would soak up the light, savor it, thrive in it! 

And she ran.

It ended as she knew it would, as it always had, as it always had too. 

It ended in a clearing; there the boy knelt, none the worse looking for his exertions and as she ran closer, her hand outstretched to pluck him from danger, the earth trembled, throbbed; the light roared, undulating in rage and he looked at her. His eyes were not accusing, nor filled with hate; they told her that he was lost but she was not good enough to find him. She would never be good enough.

He burned.

She turned to shield her face, the flames leaping for her, to burn away her illusions and leave nothing but the failure she knew she was.

'Not a failure.' 

The words drifted through the woods on a wind that, in the dream, felt like spring. She heard the sound of running water.

Shepard opened her eyes; she was lying on her side, the way the night had begun when she and Liara had lain down together. They had fallen asleep where they lay, as they lay. Liara's face filled her vision; at rest, at peace, her breathing deep, steady, a rhythm of perfection if only for a moment. Shepard's eyes narrowed a bit- Liara smiled a small, satisfied smile but did not awaken. 

Shepard relaxed, wondering if Liara had touched her dream. She felt...good actually, more than just a little bit tired still, but whatever bleak feelings the dream might have stirred up had been tucked away by those simple words- regardless of where they had come from. Shepard closed her eyes to get, what she knew would be deep, restful sleep.

And the alarm went off.

Shepard groaned and pulled her pillow over her head, trying to will the alarm off by sheer mental stubbornness. The mattress rocked gently beneath her, Liara waking up. There was a gentle tug on the pillow which she resisted; another tug, with more force this time, still she fought back. Liara sighed, a gentle hum filled the room and the pillow was torn from her hands and landed in the corner of the room. Without opening her eyes Shepard said, “biotics are cheating.”

Liara chuckled, Shepard's skin prickled, she could feel the asari's body heat as the other woman bent closer to her, then her hot breath was tickling Shepard's ear and Liara whispered, “Not ever a failure, love. Not ever.”

 

Later they cleared the breakfast dishes together. Shepard washed, Liara dried. It was drudge work, easy, repetitive and comfortable; neither seemed to need to say anything but whenever they made eye contact one or the other would smile, the other soon following, giving into an irresistible compulsion. Shepard would hand Liara a dish, the asari would dry it and place it in the proper cupboard. It felt good. 

They finished the chore and went to get themselves ready to face the day.

Shepard opened the bathroom door, she could see the asari's dark silhouette through the frosted glass and it gave her ideas, ideas she had been too tired, to empty the night before to follow through on. “Liara,” she called.

“What is it?” Liara asked. Shepard could imagine the water running over that blue skin, rivulets beading, flowing, sliding across curves, valleys, contours that- 

“Another shower then, a cold one this time,” Shepard muttered to herself.

“I didn't hear you,” Liara called out.

“I said, do you know where you put my dress blues?”

The glass door open a bit and Liara poked her head out, “Your formal uniform? It should be in with your other things that I had brought over from the Normandy. Why?”

“We have to go to high command,” Shepard answered.

“Did you get some sort of communication?” Liara's brow knit.

Shepard crossed the bathroom, and kissed her between the eyes. “No, but they will; I'm sure someone, somewhere is upset at my exit yesterday; better to go to them first.”

“Best defense is a good offense?” Liara smiled a bit at her own joke. “Something like that?”

Shepard pointedly angled her neck, stretching to peer through the tiny opening in the glass door to get a better look. “Something like that,” she agreed obviously staring.

“Shepard!” Liara exclaimed and pushed her human's face away and slammed the sliding glass shut.

Chuckling, Shepard turned to leave when she heard the shower door slide open, it banged on the bathroom wall. There was Liara, hands on her hips, standing just a little bit straighter than was necessary. Shepard paused mid-step. “All you have to do is ask,” Liara said quietly and even through the sound of running water the Spectre could hear her clearly both the words and the meaning behind the words.

“I'll-” Shepard's tongue just flopped around behind her teeth, a panicked signal from her mind and she managed to breathe, “Wow.”

Laughing, suddenly shy once again, Liara covered herself with one arm and slid the door shut.

With more than a little bounce in her step, Shepard went to look for her dress blues.

 

They were in the third box down, she had had to go through the other two which had held only a small part of her beloved movie collection. She was focusing on digging through the carefully folded clothes and did not hear the other woman come in.

“I can't believe you made me watch this,” Liara said crouching down next to her; she was only covered by an orange towel. In her hand she held a hard copy of one of Shepard's movies.

“Whoa, what? That's a classic!” Shepard protested. She plucked the data file from the asari's hand and carefully put it back in the carrying case. “They don't make films like that anymore.”

“Something I'm sure many would agree is a good thing,” Liara added. “Evil Dead 2? Really? As if the living were not troublesome enough.”

“Ash is a god, do not question the Ash,” Shepard said defensively. 

“Life is not an entertainment product,” replied Liara; Shepard tried to peek under her towel. 

“All the time,” Liara amended clutching the towel to herself firmly.

Sighing Shepard conceded the point with a nod and started putting on her dress blues. 

Liara watched closely, it was always an odd transformation to see. As Shepard slipped on the pants and buckled the belt around her waits, her bearing became stiffer, less relaxed. When the last button on the jacket had been closed the lines around her mouth were firm. The easy smile that was so beguiling now tucked neatly away somewhere in her mind. The boots came next, polished to a fine shine and glowing in the sun light from the nearby window; Shepard stepped into them and stood at attention. The gentle humor in her eyes now suffused, subsumed by pride and steel.

“Ready?” Shepard asked.

Liara waved at her towel with one hand.

A sliver of humor shown forth, “Well, it'd be an attention getter,” Shepard grinned. “I'll be out front.”

A few minutes later Liara emerged from the bedroom; Shepard was sitting in one of the chairs, looking out the picture window that decorated the front wall. She glanced up at Liara and said, “Before we go there's just one more thing.”

 

With the comfortable weight of a side-arm at her waist Shepard approached the massive building that was Command Headquarters. It towered overhead, several dozen stories tall. All four walls, heavy concrete with narrow windows, slid upwards at a very gradual angle giving the building a massive pyramid appearance. The flattened roof at the top had twin heavy AA Guns scanning the skies and small shuttle craft arrived and departed from the twin landing pads between them at regular intervals. The couple arrived in front of the comparatively small glass doors on the ground floor. It took only a moment for the scanner in the door to verify Shepard's ID with a DNA scan and the doors opened automatically. 

Beyond a small archway a huge front hall took up the first ten floors of the building. Balconies ran along the inner wall around the circumference every floor up and at the far wall two glass elevators moved steadily, transporting soldiers, officers and other staff to this office or that one. The main floor was decorated with large trees that lined the walls. Round tables with relaxing looking chairs around them dotted the main floor. Some were occupied, others waited to be used. A large desk in the middle of the room was labeled 'Information' and behind it Shepard could see several harried looking low ranking soldiers. 

Everywhere the room thrummed with activity, with hustle and bustle as hundreds of people did what they had to do, as fast as they could, absolutely convinced that the entire galaxy hinged upon their take-of-the-moment. Behind the information desk Shepard spotted a black, granite wall. Gold lettering at the top spelled out 'Ad Perpetuam Memoriam' and under those words she could read the names of ships. Ships that she surmised had been lost to the enemy, to the Reapers.

Shepard stepped under the arch which glowed red, a clear barrier descended quickly blocking Shepard, a quiet tone sounded which brought a security agent around a corner. He was examining a data pad as he approached, the familiar blue of his uniform was offset by the black, light armor he wore on which he carried stripes designating him as a sergeant. He held out a hand, palm up. “I'm sorry ma'am, no weapons are allowed inside regardless of rank. If you'll just hand over-” he glanced up from his pad. “Omigod! Commander Shepard!” He stiffened to attention and snapped off a razor sharp salute.

“At ease, Sergeant,” Shepard said, returning the salute. “I'm looking for the admiral's council?” 

“Yes ma'am,” the sergeant replied crisply. He tapped a few keys on his Omnitool, Shepard's glowed as it received a data packet. “I've uploaded directions to your O-tool, ma'am. I've also given you priority so you can go right in.” 

“My companion as well?” Shepard asked, indicating Liara with a nod. 

“Of course, ma'am,” the sergeant replied. He reached over, waved his hand in front of the barrier, there was another pulse from his Omnitool and the barrier rose silently. 

“Have a good day, ma'am,” the sergeant said with more than a touch of deference in his voice.

“Sergeant?” Shepard said. “You forgetting something?” Shepard held her pistol out to the sergeant. The man flushed. 

“Of course, ma'am, sorry ma'am it's just....” he stopped and stood there awkwardly then after a moment he took the offered weapon, tapped a key on his Omnitool and stepped back and made another salute. “Ma'am”, he said again, his voice and posture professional. “It's an honor.”

“Thank you, sergeant,” Shepard replied. “The honor is mine.”

They stepped under the arch and were making their way in the direction of the information desk when Shepard heard someone applauding behind her. The security guard was standing in the open doorway clapping his hands as loudly as he could. He started right at her. Other people, attracted by the noise, noticed her as well and they started applauding. People came to the balconies to look down into the plaza to see what was happening, heads bent as people whispered and every where more and more people realized who was there and joined in the applause. It roared across the open space, hundreds of people, of professional soldiers standing, applauding one of their own; one who had done her duty! 

In the middle of it all, surrounded by smiling, approving, faces full of gratitude and pride, Shepard felt very small. 

The weight of Liara's hand on her shoulder comforted her. She stepped forward and held up her hands, the applause continued, thunderous, overwhelming; she waited, hands upraised. Slowly, over minutes that felt forever, the applause died. Where the noise had filled the room the silence suddenly made it feel cavernous. 

A voice behind a sea of faces shouted, “Speech!”

Another shouted, “Striptease- ow! Hey!”

The chuckles rode across the hall like wind over grass. Shepard smiled a little, shaking her head then when she was sure she had the full attention of everyone in the room she came to attention and saluted. She saluted them, all these men and women who served. She saluted them then, honored them from one soldier to another. She brought her hand down smartly, turned on her heel and faced the memorial. Pulling herself even straighter Shepard slowly brought her hand to her brow in another formal salute and stayed there. 

There was a moment of quiet then the hall rang with the sound of thousands of pairs of boots striking the ground at the same time as every member of the Systems Alliance there turned as one and raised their hands in salute to echo Shepard's.

You've done good, child. You've done good. I'm proud of you.

To herself Shepard whispered, “Thank you, sir.” 

Her eyes fixed straight ahead Shepard shouting into the quiet, “Always faithful!”

Hundreds of voices replied the oath, “Semper-fi!” 

Shepard brought her hands back to her sides, turning to face everyone there. 

“Thank you,” she said to the assembled room. “Please, return to your duties.” and just like that, the moment was over. The rumble of people doing what was expected of them, perhaps a little louder, a little more animated, suffused the room. 

“Shepard- I,” Liara's face was glowing. Pride? Adoration? “That was amazing,” 

“I'm nothing special,” Shepard replied, she nodded in the direction of the monument. “They gave up everything. They sacrificed all they had for the cause. I didn't.”

The asari's hands suddenly were gripping Shepard's shoulders fiercely and the Spectre felt herself being pulled around forcing her to stare into two, angry, brimming eyes. 

“It was not for lack of trying, Shepard!” Liara hissed. “The ones who died did not do so so you could convince yourself that they received the real reward. What you did was special, you are special but besides that you are alive! Now, start acting like it!”

Shepard blinked, a surge, an impulse seized her to brush Liara's hands from her shoulders, tell her to mind her own business- that she couldn't possibly understand but.... She did. Shepard opened her mouth, closed it again and said, “I'm- I'm sorry. I'm – I've been so wrapped up in- You're right, Liara. You're absolutely right.”

And with that said she stepped forward, cupped the asari's face in her palms and kissed her. It was their first kiss since the hospital and it was searing. Liara's hands slid over Shepard's shoulder and changed from a fierce grip, to an equally fierce embrace. And they stood there, surrounded by all the other men and women of the System Alliance locked in a kiss, reaching, tasting and a deep ache that they both had carried without realizing it released a bit, a knot coming just a tiny bit-undone. Passer-byes stared, some smiled to themselves, there were more than few wolf-whistles; perhaps even an angry mutter or two. 

The kiss went on. 

Slowly, reluctantly, they separated. Liara nuzzled the palm of one of Shepard's hands with her cheek, “This is very unprofessional,” she said. “I want more.”

Shepard laughed, released Liara and tugged at her own jacket until the lines were once again crisp and neat. “Come on, someone is going to start applauding again,” she said offering her elbow to her partner. “Let's go see what those admirals want then get the hell out of here. I feel a little like living some more,” and more of her believed it now than earlier.

Liara's smile matched her own, “Damn right.”

“Remind me to smack Garrus, would you?”

 

The outer office to the Admiral’s council was manned by a single lieutenant behind a cramped desk, drowning in paperwork and a tired looking holographic interface. The walls were the same white as the plaza, decorated with paintings of different naval vessels of the past. Shepard recognized all of them, including one tucked in the corner with the title 'Normandy SR-1'. As the two women entered they unlinked arms; when he spotted them the lieutenant leaped to his feet and saluted.

“Ma'am, it is short notice but the admirals are ready to see you now,” he reached under the desk and pushed a button. The heavy metal coated doors at the back of the room swung inwards. Returning the salute, Shepard than nodded in thanks and headed through the doors. The chamber was near identical to the one in Vancouver when the Reapers had first attacked. A large half circle dais with the admirals behind it and at their backs several story tall narrow windows framed a view of the city and harbor stretching away to the horizon.

There were four people seated at the risen platform, three men and one woman. Shepard recognized Admiral Hacket and Admiral Mikhailovich, the other two were unknowns. Despite knowing two of them, and having come to trust Hacket himself, Shepard felt herself begin to scowl. With effort she smoothed her features. Liara slowed her steps and halted a few feet behind the Spectre who moved to the center of the room where she came to attention and saluted the current leaders of the System Alliance.

“Commander Shepard reporting,” she said, looking straight ahead at nothing. “Ready to submit my report, Admirals.”

The older soldiers stood up as one and raised their hands in salute. Only when Shepard returned to full attention did they themselves lower their salute, as if to a superior. 

“It's good to see you, Commander,” Admiral Hacket said sitting back down. The other admirals did as well. “I was pleased to hear you were back on your feet and our own assumptions,” here he stopped and shot a glance at the other admirals, “were mistaken.”

“Yes sir,” Shepard replied, her voice carefully neutral. 

Turning to the rest of the board Hacket continued, “I know you've met Admiral Mikhailovich,” the weathered, but younger looking man besides Hacket nodded at Shepard, “this is Admirals Chase.” 

Admiral Chase was a heavy set woman, handsome her features stiff, her jaw set in firm resolution. Short, dark hair curled tightly against her skull with grey strands starting to appear at the temples. Heavy brows cast her eyes in shadows which were offset by her far to pale skin; her expression was not hostile, nor particularly welcoming. She acknowledged the introduction with a perfunctory nod.

“And this is Admiral Sandoval,” finished Hacket. Admiral Sandoval was a polar opposite to Admiral Chase; his skin was a ruddy, healthy red, and weathered. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties with laugh lines around his mouth and and the slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that did not make him appear so much as old, but content. Where the other admirals were also sitting straight backed in their seats he was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the large table, relaxed, pleasant. He gave Shepard half a smile, touched two fingers to his brow in another, more casual salute and replied, “Ma'am.”

“Admirals,” Shepard said in return. She turned to Liara who was, for her part, standing silently, clasping one hand in her other. “This is my partner, Doctor T'Soni.”

Admiral Chase spoke up, she had a heavy, powerful voice. Quite deep for a woman, “With all due respect Commander Shepard, but this debriefing will most likely be including classified material; I think it would be best if Doctor T'Soni waited in the outer-office.”

Liara smiled at Shepard a bit and turned to leave, Shepard reached out and gently took one of her asari's hands in her own then locking eyes with Admiral Chase said in response “I don't.”

Admiral Chase stiffened, Liara's eyes widened and her mouth started to open as if to protest but one look at Shepard and it snapped back shut. Admiral's Chase's admonishment was swift and lined with steel, “Commander! I was merely being polite but make no mistake that was an order and if you feel the need for me to make it official than consider it so.”

“Order away,” Shepard said back to the admiral. “Doctor T'Soni will remain here.”

Hacket raised a single eyebrow but remained silent, Admiral Sandoval sat back but also said nothing. Admiral Mikhailovich hadn't moved at all since he had sat down. 

“Doctor T'Soni has been fighting beside me since I first became aware of the Reaper threat,” Shepard continued. “She was also there at the final push; she has seen things and been a part of this from beginning to end. Her perspectives and contributions to my final report are essential. I vouch for her completely.”

“That is beside the po-” Shepard cut Admiral Chase's response off at the knees. “I'm also aware that the a critical reason why I am still alive to actually give that report is because of Doctor T'Soni's...because of Liara's intervention on my behalf at the hospital yesterday.”

“So,” and Shepard put just the right tone of her voice so her next words held the unspoken message 'you can kiss my ass', “With all due respect, Admiral, you'll have to forgive me if I'm reluctant to be separated from her.”

Admiral Chase flushed and opened her mouth to retort; Admiral Mikhailovich started to laugh. The laugh grew louder in volume and in strength until the man was almost out of breath. His laughter began to die away and he wiped at his eyes with one hand. “I told you it was as bad idea to assume Shepard wouldn't wake up,” he said to the room in general. “What was my exact quote? Oh yes, 'there's no way this is going to come back and bite us in the ass.' or something along those lines.”

Admiral Chase spun to face him, “This is gross insubordination!” she hissed, her face now a deep purple. 

“Juliet,” Mikhailovich replied gently. “Shepard saved every sentient creature in the galaxy and we tried to reward her with-”

Hacket stood up, “Thank you Peter, Juliet,” he turned his attention to Shepard. “Commander, in all honesty you are owed a serious explanation but the fact of the matter is we were not expecting you for some time yet. That you are here does you credit but the board has some issues to be resolved and preparations to make. There are things you need to know, Commander and so we ask that you indulge us.”

“Sir?” Shepard asked.

“Well, if it'll help consider these suggestions, not orders,” Hacket smiled a bit. “I'm prepared to give you that much leeway,” his smile vanished. “For now.”

Shepard let go of Liara's hand and snapped to attention, “Sir!”

Admiral Sandoval spoke up, “There's a lovely terraced coffee shop outside the plaza. Why not take the lovely Doctor for an early lunch,” now it was his turn to smile, wide, open, friendly. “Again, just a suggestion.”

Shepard nodded, “Yes sir,” she nodded to them. “Admirals.”

As she walked away with Liara right behind her Hacket said, “We'll contact you when we're ready Commander.”

 

 

They were seated at an outside table. The terrace was enclosed by a wall of tall hedges on three sides, the fourth leading back into the cafe and from there to the plaza. The small round tables, made of filigreed metal modeled after the twisting and binding of natural vines complete with leaves, were painted white reflecting the sunlight filtering down through the clear blue sky overhead. Shepard sat relaxed, her legs crossed, one hand curled around her cup of coffee which steamed, its vapors curling upwards; Liara's hands were resting on the table top, her own drink ignored beside her and observing Shepard who had unbuttoned the top button of her dress blues which Liara knew was Shepard giving herself permission to let go a bit. The asari broke the silence first, “What was that all about?” 

Shepard shrugged, “Pretty much what it sounded like and like what I said before. I feel like living.”

Liara cocked her head to one side and rested her chin on one palm, staring at her human, “You're telling me my kiss inspired a minor revolution?”

Shepard grinned at her and took a sip of coffee, grimaced and set it back down. “A little revolution now and then is good for the soul,” her expression turned serious. “I meant what I said, Liara. I don't trust them-”

“Even Admiral Hacket?” Liara asked.

“I honestly don't know,” Shepard answered. “But I have another reason.” She leaned across the table and took her asari's hands in her own. “We've been- I've been-” she started over. “I've loved you practically since we met, or at least thought, which was terrifying, that I could.”

“I'm glad your fear was weaker than you,” Liara replied, squeezing Shepard's hands.

Shepard winked, brought Liara's hands up to her lips and kissed them, nuzzling the smooth blue skin with her cheeks she continued, “But that was nearly six years ago; in all that time how much of it have we had with each other?”

Her asari frowned a little in recollection, “Not enough.”

“Probably less than six months, Liara,” Shepard answered. “I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having some mission or obligation get in the way. We had to set each other aside,” Shepard began ticking off on her fingers. “First, for Saren, than the Collectors; after that I was essentially imprisoned for half a year and then along come the Reapers. We deal with them and, whoops, I'm flat on my back for another two years. I wake up, hurray!” Shepard flung her hands up in the air, a sarcastic parody of jubilation. “Now, nothing is between us, I can take the time, we can take the time to deal and finally- finally be with each other and they want to send you out of the room for security,” she swept her hand in a savage slicing gesture. “That is not happening!”

“Yet,” Liara bit her lip. “We knew all this going in. I don't want you getting into trouble on my behalf.”

“Your behalf is the only reason to get into trouble,” Shepard countered, again kissing her asari's hands before released them and sitting back. “And we did do everything, I'm done.”

“You're also a Spectre,” Liara pointed at Shepard. “They don't retire.”

“They'll make an exception then,” Shepard replied picking up her coffee. She squeezed her eyes shut, grit her teeth slightly and took another sip. A shudder passed through her. “Hell, this is terrible coffee,” she paused, then rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, I'm actually feeling nostalgic for awful coffee.”

“Been there,” said someone from behind them.

“Done that,” said another from the same direction. 

Shepard turned to look over her shoulder. Stepping out from under the awning that lead to coffee shop proper were two people. The one in the lead was a tall woman, with long brown hair. She wore the standard jacket and pants of an alliance lieutenant-commander. Walking with a delicate, shuffling step beside her was a young man, his five o'clock shadow matched the dark brown hair peeking out from under the ever present baseball-cap that no one had ever seen him without. His informal overalls were the right color, and the insignia on his shirt marked him as a flight lieutenant. They both stopped a few feet from the table and snapped to attention, offering a professional salutes.

“Ash-” Shepard bit back the informal greetings. Rising to her feet she accepted the lieutenant’s salute and returned it, “At ease,” she said. When both the newcomers had settled into parade rest Shepard extended her hand to the lieutenant-commander who took it and before Shepard could react she was pulled into a fierce embrace from the other woman. 

“God damnit, Skipper,” the woman said pounding Shepard on the back. “You did it.”

“Thanks- ow, Ashley. But you know it- crap that hurt!- was a team effo-please stop that.”

The lieutenant-commander stepped back and looked Shepard up and down. “I've been waiting to thank you for nearly two years, ma'am.”

“Aww, hugs over already?” asked a male voice. “So much for my Vaenia flashback.”

“And there's the bad news,” Lieutenant Ashley Williams said turning to the man in question. “Joker followed me home, do we have to keep him?”

Jeff "Joker" Moreau rolled his eyes, gave a casual salute, touching two fingers to the brim of his cap, than backed away two steps, palms out, “No hugs, I'm fragile.”

Now it was Ashley’s turn to roll her eyes. “Your girlfriend is an AI partially uploaded into synthetic flexible poly-alloy body.”   
“Well yeah,” Joker replied. “But she has variable density settings now. Your just jealous her weight loss and gain are essentially an up and down button on a remote control. If she had one, which she doesn't and neither of us are thinking of- ever.”

The lieutenant-commander glared at Joker and shifted her attention to the asari. “Liara, good to see you again.”

“Hi Doc,” Joker waved. 

The asari smiled in greeting, “Ashley, Joker, good to see you both. Though I am surprised. I thought you were off on assignment.”

“Finished em',” Joker replied taking a seat. Lieutenant Williams turned her chair around and straddled it, resting her forearms on the back of the chair. Shepard sat back down, picked up her spoon and handed it to Ashley. 

The lieutenant's raised her eyebrows. “Skipper?”

“We had a deal, Lieutenant,” Shepard said. “Time to live up to your end of the bargain.”

Ashley visibly paled, “Oh lord, please no, ma'am. It was a...I was joking. Trying to, uh, inspire. For morale that sort of thing.”

“Right,” Shepard said, still holding out the spoon and grinning like a fiend. “And since I survived the war and-”

“Uh,” Joker interrupted. “Speaking of surviving, I heard some weird rum-”

Shepard cut him off with a glance, “In a minute, Joker. I've been waiting for this moment. LT?”

Muttering angrily Ashley stood back up, snatched the spoon out of Shepard's hand, held up and mumbled something.

“What?” Shepard said, her grin now vulpine. “I didn't hear you. Do it right.”

Ashley snarled, “Alright, alright.”

Shepard cocked an eyebrow and the lieutenant amended, “Alright, alright, ma'am.” Then taking a deep breath the young lieutenant-commander held the spoon over her head and said very loudly, “Alright you primitive screw-heads, listen up! This...is my boomstick!”

Shepard flung her head back, laughter bubbling richly, clearly like a bell, “Oh god,” she gasped doubling over, clutching at her ribs. “That was perfect. Ash does Ash! Long live Ash!” then she dissolved into a fresh fit of giggles again. Ashley herself, apparently struggling to keep her face set in a scowl, and losing to smiles, tossed the spoon on the table and sat back down. 

Joker leaned toward Liara and muttered audibly, “The commander didn't accidentally take too much prescription medication today did she?”

“She's not on any medication, Joker,” Liara replied seriously. “My best guess is they've gone mad.”

“Army of Darkness,” Ashley grumbled. “From the commander's,' and she made air-quotes. “Collection.”

Having regained some composure though still wiping at her eyes Shepard gasped, “Also known unofficially as Evil Dead 3.”

“They made three of those things?” Liara gaped. “What is wrong with your species Shepard?”

“Twentieth century movies,” Joker groaned, smacking himself in the forehead with the heel of one hand. “I might have known.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said, sitting back. 

The conversation lulled into a companionable silence. The four of them sat at the table enjoying the mid-morning sun. The heat of the day had yet to make itself known and a cool air was blowing in off the ocean while wispy clouds gave just enough diversity to the sky so as to prevent the blue from being oppressive, taking the edge off the harsh sunlight. The coffee was forgotten and inside the cafe the servers, having developed the proper instincts to serve the rank and file, did not intrude to see if anyone wanted a refill. They sat, enjoying the rare opportunity that presented itself- all of them were in a brief time of actual peace and they were sharing it with those who knew its true value: Others who had gone with them into battle. 

There were so many words that could be said to express the feelings they all had, descriptive terms, jokes or endearments to voice the bond no bloodline could ever reproduce, but there was no need. At just the right moment, not too soon to interrupt the peace yet not too long so the silence became awkward Shepard said, “Here we are.”

“I'll drink to that,” Joker said. “Well I would, if I had a drink. And it was the right time of day for alcohol,” he scratched his chin in thought. “I've never felt comfortable with any hard stuff until the evening anyhow.”

“I feel the same way,” Liara said. “ About seeing us, together. It'd be good to see the others as well. I know Garrus is still here and he has reason to believe Tali will be coming today; he hasn't contacted me today though.”

Shepard pushed her coffee cup away from her, “There are so many others and....” she hesitated. “Those who will never come back.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment remembering the members of 'their crew' who had been lost over the years.

Joker leaned his chair back on its rear legs and gazed up at the sky, “It works better with a toast but- Hell with it,” he tossed off a two fingered salute to the heavens. “To absent friends.”

The others echoed the sentiment, “Absent friends.”

“Am I included in that?”

The woman who sat down at the table was dressed in a black suit; the leather hugging her curves that she herself would have described, without even a hint of arrogance or error, perfect. Black hair fell in graceful curves to her shoulders framing a stern, perfectly proportioned and utterly lovely, if somewhat closed, face.  
Her arrival had been done in absolute silence and was so unexpected that Joker lost his balance and began to fall backwards with a startled, “Shi-”

The biotic stasis effect snapped around him and his chair, freezing him in place. 

“That was unintentional,” Miranda Lawson said to the others. “I'll take care of it,” she moved around behind the frozen Joker then with a blink the stasis effect popped. She caught his chair with a single hand and eased him back upright.”

“Thank you,” Joker said. “Not cool with the whole 'startling me so I fall over backwards and break several bones, again', but nice recovery. Seven out of ten.”

“Miranda,” Liara nodded in greeting.

“Liara,” Miranda smiled gently. “How goes business?”

“Well,” Liara replied. “Though, as always, with more emphasis on assistance rather than profit.”

“Hmm,” Ashley grumbled, flicking a strand of her brunette hair out the way. “So the alliance has let you in despite the whole 'used to work for Cerberus'? angle Miranda?”

Miranda's smile turned predatory as she faced the other human Spectre, “Ah, but I did brilliant work for Cerberus. Any complaints Commander?”

Shepard grimaced, “I've a bias, Miranda. Bringing me back from the dead sort of puts a spin on a perspective.”

“Oh, I don't know, Shepard,” Miranda moved to stand over the commander. “You could always go racing off looking for the last big fight. A blaze of glory as it were.”

Shepard's gaze slipped from Miranda to Liara who was looking back at her steadily, quietly watching the conversation. “No,” Shepard shook her head slightly, a tiny smile curving at one corner of her mouth. “I'd never want that. I want to come back from any fight. That's why it should be done in the first place, the only reason to fight; to protect what you love.”

Miranda stood silently, “Yes,” she finally agreed. “That's how I knew you'd come back, I was absolutely positive you'd walk out of that hospital after probably punching someone.”

“Not this time,” Liara murmured. “I got to do the punching. I guess the staff remembered that and kept a low profile when we left.”

Miranda chuckled, hands on her hips, she faced the entire group, “As much as I'd love to hear the story I do have a job. Yes Ashley-”

The woman in question stiffened slightly, “That's Lieutenant Commander Williams to you.”

Miranda accepted the rebuke with a nod, “My apologies Lieutenant Commander. As I was saying though, yes, I work for the alliance as a civilian in a probationary capacity and on that very topic,” she focused her attention on Ashley and Joker. “Regarding our earlier discussion, how goes the prep?”

Joker sat up, pushing the brim of his hat back a bit, “If the powers-that-annoy think it's necessary than we're ready to go when the word is given.”

Ashley nodded, “I'd have to say all that's needed is the final go-ahead. Though optimal results are impossible to know for sure, a lot of it will depend on the principle.”

Miranda made a note on her Omnitool, “Noted, I'll pass that along. Her attention shifted over to Shepard, “And for you Shepard, a note- apparently one of my duties is now playing messenger- The admirals are ready for you rejoin them. “

Shepard stood up, “Let's get this over with; I don't suppose any of you have free time in the near future. I want to hear everything about how who's getting on with what and where.”

Ashley saluted and Joker repeated his casual two fingered touch to the brim of his cap, “We'll see you soon, skipper.” Ashley said after Shepard had returned the salute and the two of them, Joker still shuffling his steps carefully, left the cafe.

“What about you Miranda?” Liara asked as she stood. “Will we be seeing you again?”

Miranda folder her arms and took a step back, “We?”

Liara hooked an arm through Shepard's, “We,” Shepard confirmed.

Miranda nodded in approval, “Good,” she turned and walked away.

“You never answered my question!” Liara called after her.

“Be careful what you wish for, Liara,” the words came drifting from the darkness of the interior of the cafe.

Liara's features turned pensive and she glanced at Shepard, “That was...odd.”

Her human shrugged, “You heard that conversation she had with Ashley and Joker; something's going on and I'm sure somehow we'll be dragged into it.”

“Not if I have something to say about it,” Liara gripped Shepard's arm fiercely. “Shall we?”

Shepard sighed, gave the asari a peck on the cheek, “Only with reluctance,” then reached up and buttoned the collar of her dress blues.

 

They were halfway across the plaza moving toward the board room before Shepard's instincts began to buzz. 

The first real tickle was as she passed the information desk; where there had been two male privates bludgeoning through paperwork and hassle there was now one man and one woman, both blondes, their bearing and focus more the hallmark of professionals than green-behind-the-ears recruits; then out of the corner of her eye she noticed the the secretary on the second floor that she had glimpsed at earlier was now a brunette. Automatically she screened the seething mass of soldiers moving through the plaza and took in other differences. The guard by the door appeared stockier than he had before, his stance wider and centered, the group in the corner that had turned and listened to her before was gone, replaced by a man and a woman engrossed in their magazines in fact....

Shepard did a casual three-sixty look around and idly noted that not one person in the plaza had been there earlier. She was about to think on it further when her adrenaline level spiked and she stood stock still. Her eyes widening she fought to keep the flutterings of panic in her stomach under control. 

Liara having noted Shepard's glances came up beside her, “What is it?” she said under her breath.

Shepard swallowed with difficulty, “Everyone's different.”

The asari glanced around again, “I don't understand, how are they different? It appears to me that everything is normal enough.”

“No, Liara, you don't understand,” and Shepard had to take a deep breath to keep the fear out of her voice. ”Not one person who's here right now, not on the entire first three floors and in the entire plaza was here twenty minutes ago. Not one drone, not one office worker, not one secretary or any of the employees in the cafe we just left. They're all new.”

“How can you possibly tell?” Liara demanded. 

“Because I remember!” And the shuddering in her voice was audible-she cursed inwardly. “I can remember perfectly Liara; I remember every face, every body- everything. That's not the same guard at the door; his hair color is the same but he's at least one centimeter shorter than the guard who let us in and three pounds heavier. Trained in combat too.” She nodded at the blonde behind the information desk. “She's been trained, sniper I'd guess. See those calluses on her hands? Everyone here has seen combat Liara, everyone. There's not a single paper-pusher here.”

“Shepard-” Liara began.

“I remember everything, Liara!” Shepard clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “What's wrong with me?”

Liara moved closer, taking Shepard's left fist into her hands she uncurled her human's fingers and interlaced her own, squeezing gently. “Nothing,” she breathed. “Not a thing in the universe.”

Shepard forced her feet to move, ignoring the part of herself, the solitary part, that told her to pull away from Liara. “Let's get this over with.”

As they entered the outer-office the lieutenant didn't even look up from his screen, just buzzed the door and nodded them through.

This time the admirals did not rise when Shepard entered; they were speaking quietly to each other. Sandoval was gesturing with particular ferocity, punctuating his statements by jabbing his finger at Admiral Chase's face not three inches away. As the door hissed shut behind the two women Admiral Hacket noticed them and cleared his throat. The other admirals stopped their conversation and rolled their chairs back to their original places behind the raised table.

In the time since Shepard and Liara had been gone a second table had been brought into the room, it was plain, oak with retractable legs turned to face the higher table where the admirals sat. The chairs in front of the new addition looked flimsy and uncomfortable. Shepard stepped up behind the leftmost chair and saluted. The admirals snapped off brief salutes of their own, quick and to the point, far briefer than before. 

“Back to the old ways,” Liara whispered seating herself. A slight nod was Shepard's only response as she herself sat down, pulling the chair closer to the table and resting her arms atop it. 

“Welcome back, commander,” Hacket started. “I think the first thing to do is address the elephant in the corner.”

“I sometimes find your languages idioms to be a major headache,” Liara muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Are you referring to the board's orders to the hospital to have me killed?” Shepard asked in a clipped voice.

Admiral Chase sighed loudly, “That is a misnomer, commander. They were a termination order of autonomic brain functions; according to the best professional evaluations over a very long time of investigation and care it was the belief of everyone that you were in a persistent vegetative state.”

“A state that also had every automatic life function working perfectly,” Liara replied. “Including digestion, respiratory, and the nervous and musculature systems.”

“Doctor T'Soni,” Admiral Sharp replied putting extreme stress on the first syllable of doctor. “You are being allowed to remain as a courtesy to the commander; you are guest- do not abuse that position or you'll be asked politely to leave.”

“That's enough,” Hacket replied quietly. He rubbed at a spot between his eyes without thought- something he had probably done constantly over a lifetime. “Your point is well founded Doctor T'Soni, the debates over the decision grew quite heated as I'm sure you can imagine but we're not here to go over old ground. Commander Shepard?”

“Sir,” Shepard replied, snapping the word out.

“The board here, representing the entire current leadership of the Systems Alliance would like to offer you an official apology. We acted hastily and with poor judgment. For that we...for that I am sorry,” Hacket looked away. 

Admiral Mikhailovich continued, “Quite simply we made a mistakes; perhaps we listened to the wrong experts, perhaps we've been too far from the front lines; I do not know, 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' is a vapid excuse, Commander. We wronged you, I wronged you...not for the first time...I deeply regret it. My apologies.”

 

The two admirals turned to look at Admiral Chase; the fierce scowl on the woman's face had not diminished since Hacket had shut her down minutes before, she closed her eyes, inhaled through her nose and let it out slowly. Opening her eyes she looked at Shepard, “Commander,” she paused, pursed her lips for a moment, nodded to herself and said with deliberation. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Shepard felt Liara's muscles tense, without making any visible moves she brushed her leg gently against her asari's, Liara glanced at her, her eyes burning and brimming at the same time. Tears and biotic fire warred within that stare- Shepard shook her head a fraction on an inch. Liara blinked, her mouth worked, lips twisting in distaste she replied with a miniscule nod. Shepard turned her own attention onto Admiral Sandoval. He was opening staring at Admiral Chase with a slight frown then noticed Shepard, his frown changed to a large toothy grin, “I'm not apologizing,” he said. “I objected to the whole crazy idea from the beginning, never changed my opinion either.”

 

And the bottom dropped out of Shepard's stomach. 

As the sourness spread through her guts the significance of Sandoval's words hammered open horrifying certainties. The board operated under a simple three-fourths majority system until the full government could be restored. If Sandoval had voted against the proposal to terminate her life that meant the other three had to have voted in favor of it...that meant that Hacket had- Cool skin, soft pressure enclosed her hand, the one that had been curling into a fist, nails digging into the hardwood surface and- carving deep furrows in the wood?!

Again panic blindly shattered around the inside of her throat, roiling and burbling at the back of her mind and Liara squeezed, hard. Shepard turned and met her asari's gaze, blue eyes, set in blue, sea blue, ocean blue, cerulean bridged that space that separated them and yet Shepard felt, knew, understood the meaning. She rallied herself around that reminder and constant, centered herself and relaxed her fingers, instead of carving up the tabletop she returned Liara's grip. 

“Okay?” Liara mouthed the words with almost no movement, this time it was Shepard's turn to nod a fraction. She focused back on the admirals, took a deep breath and stood up.

“Thank you, sirs,” she was ready to leave, ready to leave and get out- she needed a vacation; no, they needed a vacation, a long one- second star to the right and straight on till morning, they needed it, needed, needed, needed it! The thought scrabbled inside her head, scratched, worries, nibbled and clawed like a mouse behind drywall. “Is that all?”

“No,” Chase replied. “Please sit down.”

Shepard was ready to go another round with the admiral simply on principle, but again, she rallied what control she could manage, nodded to the admiral, “Aye ma'am,” and sat back down.

Hacket took up the baton again, “What you're about to see is classified, Commander. Doctor T'Soni your assistance was instrumental in the fight against the Reaper and you have proved your trustworthiness but it must be understood the nature of the following information. Is that clear?”

They both nodded; Shepard remembered the black wall sweeping across the cerulean sea.

“The alliance that you built Shepard has held during your...uh...absence. Members of all the galactic races continue to work with each other as never before, it is because of that and what little we have acquired from the Reapers that reconstruction has been faster than any believed possible,” Hacket touched a corner of the haptic interface hovering to his left, the holographic display turned blue in one corner as an acknowledgment.   
Three large holo-screens appeared behind the admirals, at the same time heavy shutters slid over the tall windows darkening the room for easier viewing. In the right most screen behind Hacket a graph appeared with a line increasing in angle only slowly across the graph before turning sharply upwards nearly three quarters of the way across the graph. 

“As you can see in the first graph,” Hacket gestured at the screen. “Initial estimates had it that it would take nearly five hundred years before the galaxy had even recovered by sixty percent. After that was done it is believed the last forty percent would have been completed in half that time, but still, not an easy task and those are under optimal estimations. However, happily this time, it appears the experts were wrong again.”

Now the leftmost screen focused; again it was a graph but in this case the line's angle of increase was nearly at forty-five degrees from the beginning and his almost one-hundred and eighty vertical less than one-half across the graph. 

Hacket turned in his chair to face the new screen, “With the recovery and utilization of the Reaper nanite technology, plus the cooperation of all the races, it is now estimated that fifty-percent recovery is possible in under two-hundred years and after that mere decades to finish the job- and that's just based off our current understanding of Reaper-Tech. Should we have more major breakthroughs, who knows?”

“That's good to hear, sir,” Shepard replied, still with her fingers twined with Liara who was gently rubbing her thumb over her human's. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“I'm getting to that commander, I want you to have a basic understanding of the situation,” Another poke at the haptic interface activated the middle screen which began filling with images. 

Here a protest with the protesters holding anti-alien signs, the protestors were Hanar.

There a field of emergency shelters burning to the ground while around the buildings batarians wept and a figure being lead away by law enforcement officials; his angry eyes staring at the camera- a human. 

Another photo of the bodies of Blue Sun mercenaries being patrolled by the a combined force of krogan and human soldiers; twisted wreckage in the background smoldering in front of a setting sun. 

An asari stared sightlessly at nothing, the walls behind her body scrawled with words of hate and rage, written in her own blood, the image causing Liara to look away in disgust. And more images, freeze frames, news stills, victims, villains, conquerors and conquered, just and unjust, slavers and liberators on and on.

“This is just a sample of the crisis that have come down while you were indisposed, Shepard,” Hacket said. A gesture and the record vanished. “Despite all of that, or maybe because of it, the alliance has held. Or maybe it was because you had something to do with; people from all races, Hell, everyone everywhere knows of you Shepard. Don't tell me you haven’t met The Flock, yet.”

“I'm...not sure, sir,” “Shepard hedged, uncertain. “There were some people who started babbling crazy talk when they saw me.”

“Sounds like them,” Hacket replied. “The Flock are essentially people who have taken a page from the Hanar- the idea that the Protheans, aside from being a long extinct hyper-advanced race, were also divine being responsible for the creation of life- only the Flock have decided to paint their ideas in a thick coat of crazy.”

“Sir?” Shepard said politely.

“They think you're a goddess,” Sandoval's mirth seemed to infect every syllable. “You're The Shepard, Shepard. They're The Flock.”

Shepard, who prided herself on her self-control, felt her jaw flop open, “That...that's the dumbest crock of shi- er...that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard...sir.”

“I fail to see how something that is common knowledge can be classified, admirals,” Liara spoke up, her husky voice penetrating even as it was quiet.

“You're quite correct, Doctor,” Hacket replied. “A bit of a tangent, illustrating a point. Suffice it too say Shepard, despite these events, they have, in the large term, had little effect on the solidity of the alliance, that was until roughly ten months ago.”

Again the senior admiral gestured at the interface and the central screen burst into life once more. This time the images were far fewer, but more terrible for it. What looked like dozens of buildings were either rubble or well on their way in each one. Shepard could recognize the design, they were military issue rapid-ensemble quasi-permanent structures, standard issue for System Alliance divisions at distant outposts. She also noted the landing pads that were ablaze with the short-range fighter craft reduced to slag. 

“Whatever hit them, did it so fast they never even got off the ground,” she muttered to herself then in a louder voice she asked. “Pirates?”

“That was our initial guess,” Admiral Mikhailovich answered, his hands were still folded on the tabletop. Didn't this man ever move? “But the extreme precision, utter ruthlessness and, above all else, the complete lack of either missing personal or hardware precluded that idea. To make matters even more unpleasant there was never any signs of the hostiles. No bodies, casings, or even blood, no burn patterns from landings, not even atmospheric magnetic traces to even give us an idea of the size of the enemy ships involved.”

Admiral Chase flicked her hand through the interface of her own Omnitool, scanning several reports, “All the attacks were on human depots or outposts. Advanced guard stations, military operations to re-start either lost, abandoned or, miraculous, newly discovered colonization opportunities. The response was textbook; anti-alien sentiment began to climb, Pax Terra, the spiritual successor to Terra Nova which imploded politically after the alien alliance reclaimed earth, went ballistic and though their leadership has officially disavowed it, intelligence is positive they're behind a string of hate crimes that started after the third outpost was lost.”

“Wait,” Shepard held up a hand. “This is all coming too fast- first, Pax Terra? And second, how did the public even know about the lost positions?”

Liara answered the first question, “Pax Terra are a human political group who have come to believe that all non-human sentient life is somehow responsible for war. Their belief is that if aliens are driven off earth and humanity itself withdraws from the galactic community an era of peace will come to your homeworld.”

Shepard quirked an eyebrow, “That's even more idiotic than The Flock. Don't they pay attention to history?”

“Your species is responsible for three Evil Dead movies,” her asari responded with a smile. Shepard winced. Ouch.

Hacket interrupted the two women. “In answer to your second question, commander, we didn't. Whoever destroyed them released the information to the media. We had no choice but confirm their destruction and keep the media in the loop if we wanted to have any hope of winning this 'media' war.” 

More images appeared on the central screen. He continued, “As time past and we lost more and more positions without any progress in our investigation the alliance began to show cracks. Many suspected the batarians of having gone back to their old ways, piracy, slavery but their species is on the brink of extinction; turning every species against them would be suicidal and they didn't have the tech to pull this off. One meetings of all the races leaderships came very close to a fist fight with the krogans being accused of trying to trigger another war as means of expansion. Things looked bad until three weeks ago when our intelligence branch managed to recover this:”

Hacket punched in a code on the interface and the three screens blanked themselves out and a video record began to play, each screen showing different camera angles of the same military outpost. “This footage was recovered from the last attack at newly discovered garden world in the Hawking Eta cluster.”

Three cameras showed a small UNC outpost from various angles. Shepard noted the organized pattern of pre-fab housing, the larger labs and two armories along with a hanger. Between the housing and the labs sat three pads upon each was a single short range gunship. Moving between the buildings, like tiny ants, she saw soldiers moving. Patrols on the perimeter, ground crews up to their elbows in one of the gunships, formation drills behind one of the hangers and smaller groups of soldiers, sitting, playing cards, doing exercises or jogging.

Hacket spoke, “The world, thus far designated UNC-HE-Alpha01, is in a relatively stable zone of space despite being near the galactic center. We had sent a recon force of five hundred soldiers and military scientists, complete with gunships and Makos. The voice you're going to hear is that of Private First Class Lyssa McGarrat.”

Shepard listened as a young sounding woman could be heard.

“Sir? Ground radar is picking up an unknown signature, fast approaching from orbit.”

There was a pause of several seconds, someone the microphone had not picked up must have been speaking than McGarrat was back, “No sir, no response to our hails or IFF signature that our systems have identif- Sir! Massive pulse detect-” her voice distorted into a feedback screech as snow disrupted the cameras.

“Long range communications is out, Anti-Air support is out, ground crews report all gunships disabled. Engieering says they're cannibalizing two of the makos to get the third up and running. Whatever hit us took out the bulk of our electronics sir, bogie is still on approach,” an edge of hysteria was creeping into McGarrat's voice.

“They'll be on us- sir, we have eyes on target.”

One of the cameras had changed its angle of observation now looking up into the sky. Shepard spotting it- a small ship, approaching at high speeds was centered in the view. As it got closer Shepard inhaled suddenly, “That's a Kodiak,” she breathed. 

“I don't recognize the colors,” Liara said quietly. 

The small ship was black with red highlights and a gold trim, an insignia was emblazoned on the side and Shepard stopped breathing entirely for a moment- eyes glued to the symbol. A black octagonal circle was split in half, the bottom middle acting like a fulcrum, or like the petals of a black flower. In the middle a small octagonal circle also was slit asunder, only blood red this time, jagged edges and points reaching outwards. The entire symbol, like the ship, was trimmed in gold.

“That,” Liara swallowed. “That resembles the symbol of Cerberus. Only-”

“Broken,” Shepard said grimly.

They lapsed into silence, the unknown ship looked as if it was going even faster as it approached. It roared past the outer-perimeter of the outpost at almost a blur not even slowing on its approach; as it passed over the exact center the pilot flipped the vehicle over sideways so it was perpendicular to the ground and opened the doors. From inside twenty figures, Shepard knew it was twenty, knew it was exactly twenty even at the speed they were falling, at a glance she counted twenty, plummeted to the ground. Before the question, 'What the hell?' could fully form in her mind the falling figures went into formation around a central form. As they fell toward the camera the unknown in the middle flung out their arms, there was another burst of static and the entire group was surrounded by a huge, green bubble of-

“Liara,” Shepard whispered, her voice deadly neutral. “Are those biotics?”

The asari, one hand over her mouth, eyes wide was visibly trembling, “Goddess!”

“Shit,” Shepard said. “I'll take that as a yes.”

The bubble slowed as it approached the ground; exactly fifteen feet above the surface it vanished and those within fired jet boots landing easily. The outer circle, twelve in all, tucked, rolled and came up firing and again Shepard's heart stopped. 

The soldiers armor was familiar; the colors were different- originally they had been white, with insignia and helmets black. Now the white was black and the helmets red; the only thing that remained from the original design were the slits in the helmets that glowed with putrid yellow light but that wasn't what drained the blood from Shepard's face or turned the blood in her veins to ice water.

The soldiers wearing what looked exactly like Cerberus trooper armor were firing their weapons at anything, and everything and whatever they hit vanished in an explosion of green fire. A UNC marine, wearing heavy combat armor came charging from one of the prefabs, his gun blazing. The rounds bounced off the unknown’s shields, which flickered green; with an almost contemptuous effort the troopers casually moved his weapon left to right, the beam of his weapon slicing entire pre-fab buildings in half, flicked his fire across the marine and the soldier was gone, reduced to an ugly, scorched green stain in the burning earth.

“Particle rifles,” Shepard said from between clenched teeth. “Those are Promethean particle rifles!”

END-Cerulean Two

 

AN: If Blue had a them song, this would be it: www(dot)youtube.com(backslash)watch?v=hfelfyV8LwA


	4. Blue: Cerulean: Three

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue:Cerulean:Three

 

McGarret was speaking again.

“Epsilon squad moving to engage, Delta, Gamma and Alpha coming into- Sir, Epislon Squad is gone sir. Just...” there was a pause of several seconds. Shepard could picture the young officer trying to regain control, digging deep to stay on top of a situation that just minutes ago had been run of the norm. When McGarret's voice came back Shepard's stomach twinged in sympathy. 

“Delta and Gamma engaging, sir, Alpha reports casualties. Enemy fighting strength appears unaffected.”

The enemy trooper's head suddenly rocked backwards with a violent pulse of green; the flare of shields died away as the sound of a single gunshot caught up with the bullet.

“Black Widow,” Shepard said to herself, her lips pulled up in a grin. “He's done.”

The enemy trooper didn't fall, he shook his head violently, raised his the rifle and again a round struck with another flare of shields. This shot spun the trooper all the way around, staggering him as the report echoed through the feed. Before the trooper could reorient the back of his helmet imploded, the impact of a final shot knocking him off his- and his body flashed bright green and disintegrated in mid-air; nothing hit the ground. 

Part of Shepard's mind was whooping at the kill, but the more tactical side of her thoughts were grim. 

“That took a full clip,” Liara spoke quietly. Her words echoing Shepard's own realizations. “I remember how you doted on your own rifle. Three shots in a clip and you said nothing could take more than two shots.”

“Barring Reapers,” Shepard amended. 

Liara nodded, “But that was a basic Cerberus trooper, they didn't even have shields and now this one....”

“Full clip to take him down,” Shepard grunted.

“Goddess,” Liara breathed. “What are we dealing with here?”

On the screen the battle continued. The alliance forces were recovering from the surprise assault, the camera angle snapped back to a wide shot, the other two holo screens showing different angles of the conflict. From the north a large number of soldiers, armed and armored were moving up from between the few standing pre-fabs, from the south-

McGarret's voice cut in on Shepard's observations. 

“The Mako is moving,” she reported. “Engaging the enemy.”

The snarl of a heavy engine and the Mako crashed into the enemy box formation, the main canon boomed at point blank range- three of the enemy troopers were sent flying into the air, blasting apart to green energy before they even started to come back down. All the cameras were focused on the   
war-machine; its machine gun was roaring a constant hail of fire at the remaining enemy troopers. 

They seemed confused, torn between which way to focus their attention- at the alliance soldiers rushing them from the north or the Mako right in the middle of their formation.

“Pincer,” Shepard said. “Good move.”

The figure in the middle of the formation reacted. Tight fitting plating hugging close to the body made it easy for everyone watching to note she was female. A full-helmet covered her features entirely but a pony tail of some sort jutted from the back of the helmet: a brilliant shade of red, like a banner and she bore no weapons that Shepard could see. 

The female warrior flung out a hand just as the Mako's main gun boomed once again and the shell froze. 

It hung in space, a meter from the end of the turret, a shimmering web work of biotic fury wrapped around it. 

Liara's gasped and almost shouted, “Impossible!”

At the exact same time McGarret could be heard, “Sir, the mako has-” there was a pause. ”Sir, the mako is meeting-” another pause, the sound of someone swallowing. “Heavy resistance, sir.”

The woman in the skin tight plate armor on the screen had her fist clenched; it was visibly trembling, wreathed in green fire. She slowly twisted it about and the shell, still held immobile, copied her movements. When the round was now facing in the opposite direction the unknown biotic opened her hand and the shell snapped forward plowing into the Mako. The point blank impact rocked the war-machine onto its rearmost wheels, almost perpendicular to the earth. Before it could smash back the biotic flung out her other hand and caught it. The new biotic field surrounded the giant Mako and with a grunt that was audible through the long range microphones the biotic lifted both her hands over her head. The Mako was lifted into the air, its wheels spinning uselessly. 

“Mako crew re-,” she stuttered. “Requesting assistance, sir. They need orders, sir.”

The other two monitors showed different parts of the battle. On the left troopers stood, not bothering to take cover as alliance marines poured fire into them, their shields flicking green with every impact but not visibly weakening. A line of marines were huddled behind a low wall. Two troopers simply started firing at opposite ends of the wall and brought their beams together, sandwiching the helpless marines between two intersecting columns of energy. A split second later the wall, the marines and everything nearby was reduced to ash. 

Her voice was thick now, fear throttling it but she continued anyway. “Alpha, Gamma and Beta are no longer reporting in, sir.” 

The right monitor showed several enemy combatants focusing their rifles at one of the hangers. Alliance marines, who had been taking cover inside, made a break and were destroyed. A split second later the converging beams of green power shattered the building, blasting pieces of it and anyone nearby, across the base. 

McGarret's sniffed, a sob interrupting the steady report, “Hanger one is totally destroyed. No sign of the crews, sir. Sir, what should I do, sir?”

On the central display the biotic still held the mako in the air; she hooked her fingers into claws and the armor directly in the middle of the vehicle began to buckle. The woman, her body outlined in green energy, twisted her hands like someone would if they wanted to rip an empty can in half and the mako shuddered, heaved violently and split apart. Her hooked hands still raised in the air, the female-biotic looked directly at the camera. 

“Sir? Orders?”

 

There was a flicker of movement, a brief flash of the forward half of the mako hurtling at the monitor and then nothing. All three screens went black.

Shepard sat back and forced the tightness out of her shoulders, letting them slump a bit as she sat back in her chair. Liara, contra-wise, leaned forward and rested her face in her hands, breathing deeply. The admirals were silent as the quiet hiss from the now dead recording thrummed in the large room. Mercifully a few seconds later the holo-displays vanished and the sound cut off. 

Admiral Sandoval cleared his throat, “That was everything. As you were told when alliance forces got there the outpost had been annihilated. The system narrow-beamed the last twenty-four hours of recording to the orbital spy-sat though. When our forces arrived there was no sign of any enemy. Just the burning buildings, a few bodies and ash.” The admiral looked down at his hands, the fingers interlocked and his knuckles white. “Our best estimates indicate that the enemy definitely suffered one casualty, possible three more while our forces were completely destroyed.”

“How many, sir?” Shepard asked quietly.

“Two-hundred and fifty, Commander,” Hackett replied. “Including several gunships, and a five makos. Thogh four were knocked out in the initial attack.”

“Which was what, sir?”

“We have no idea. It's not an EMP pulse, those are effectively useless with current technology. Whatever it was though it took out nearly all our outpost's heavy hitters.”

Admiral Chase steepled her fingers and peered down at the two women seated at the other table. “Tactical analysis, Commander?”

Shepard pushed down the acidic burning in her stomach and forced her mind to think and in her memory the entire recording flashed through in perfect clarity; the burning feeling was replaced again by that fluttering of panic but she shoved that away as well. “They're testing,” she said slowly. 

She got to her feet, “I think this new enemy is feeling its way along. Not sure of what they're doing. There's a recklessness to their actions. Their cohesion is sloppy and communication is practically non-existent. They're...” she fumbled for words. “They're like children playing with a new toy.”

Admiral Chase's eyebrows went up, “Explain.”

“Please bring up the video at two-minutes and seventeen seconds,” the screens reappeared with the image frozen. They displayed the box formation breaking apart as the mako smashed through the south side. “Here,” Shepard said pointing. “When the enemy was confronted with two threats- continue playback, half-speed.”

The images crawled forward, the mako bursting into the enemy formation as the alliance marines from the opposite direction charged. The enemy troopers paused, some orienting to fire one way, hesitating and spinning back around and in that time, again, the mako fired, more confusion, the marines having all the time in the world to line up shots.

“Their tech-saved them,” Shepard continued. “If not for that they would have been wiped out between the hammer,” she indicated the marines. “And the anvil,” nodding to the mako.

“Interesting,” Chase said. “But hardly indicative-”

Liara stood up, “I concur, admirals.”

Chase almost sneered, “With all due-” she stopped herself. “Thank you Doctor T'Soni but you're hardly what anyone would call a military proffesio-”

Again Liara cut her off, “The...the biotic, Shepard can you....?”

“Forward to three minutes and ten seconds please and hold.”

The video flashed to the time-stamp in question. The female biotic, pony tail frozen in mid-lash, dancing with emerald energy, was holding the mako aloft, clawed fingers beginning to twist.

“Here,” Liara said. “The biotic is incredibly powerful, granted but she's foolish. With the amount of strength she's demonstrated- creating a grav-field to lower the entire group safely to the ground, catching a projectile moving in excess of ten-thousand feet per second via mass effect- her manner of destroying a viable threat indicates her lack of self-control.”

The asari straightened slightly. “And it's quite possible she's mad.”

Hacket leaned forward, his face intent, “Please go on Doctor T'Soni.”

Liara acknowledged the invitation with a nod, “It is no secret that asari industry is the supplier of the most advanced biotic amps available either to the public or various military complexes. Despite the advancements the improvement to biotic performance in any species is limited. Each generation of amps has a steady rate of diminishing returns. The latest model sevens, for example, give only at best a two percent increase in performance as opposed to the six series that improved nearly every species that had biotics by six percent.”

She glanced at Shepard who gave her a slight nod.

“I am, as the admiral pointed out, no expert in the field of either tactics or biotic technology but it is fairly common knowledge among my people that the reason for this is more based on the limits of biology rather than technology. It is a misconception that a biotic amp actually produces power for a biotic- it is a boosting technology; increasing the natural abilities of a biotic. Pushed too far though, the sentient mind will be destroyed,” Liara hesitated a moment, glancing down at the table then back up. “It was well documented through a series of what, is called by our history, unfortunate research projects.” 

She pointed at the still frozen image the unknown biotic, “It is my opinion that she has been fitted, somehow, with a biotic map of prothean design. Her power signature is similar to that of the prothean, Javik, we fought beside during the war. If I'm right what we have here is a short term weapon. Though that is only an estimate as the end results of prothean technology are an unknown. Based on this biotic's combat methods, all fury and no tactics, I'm fairly confidant that she already suffering the side effects of someone who has been, well, the asari term is overprimed.”

Liara paused, nodded to herself, “Thank you,” and sat back down.

Admiral Hacket cast a sideways glace at where Admiral Chase sat silently, and smiled slightly, “No, thank you Doctor T'Soni. Your insight will likely prove valuable.”

Shepard quietly bit her tongue to keep from spitting 'I told you so!' at Admiral Chase. Instead she settled with just sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and grinning. The female admiral appeared unperturbed but the clenched fists said otherwise. “If that is all-” she began saying.  
Shepard interrupted her, “With respect ma'am, it isn't.” She leaned forward, emphasizing her words. “Whoever they are they're managed to get their hands on prothean technology. When he awoke Javik had at his disposal only two functioning particle rifles. One was destroyed in the battle for London so the only other one in existence today should be with him. Which could mean that this group is not only using prothean tech but manufacturing it.”

Admiral Sandoval spoke up, “Is it possible that your former squad-mate could have sold the weapon? Or been captured and interrogated?”

Shepard shook her head in a fierce negative, “Selling his weapon, sir? That would never happen. He's a warrior through and through. And I doubt that he would know how to build what we just saw here, sir.”  
She took a moment to compose her thoughts, “When Javik was woken from his stasis pod the shield system in his own armor was burnt out, he claimed he did not have the skills to repair it and, even if he had, the current level of technology in the galaxy today was too primitive to be used for any kind of manufacturing. He relied on council tech to replace his old shield system.”

“I agree with the Commander,” Liara added. “On not only the trustworthiness of Javik but on the difficulty in creating prothean assets. Whoever did this not only had to develop the technology of the weapons but the means to build those weapons which our currently beyond anything the rest of sentient species are capable of.” She glanced at Shepard who wasn't smiling any longer. Her eyes were flat, distant and her lips set in a firm line. “The realization of this is....” Liara paused again. “Disquieting.” 

The underwhelming word hung in the air, silence lapsed over the room. Everyone there was alone with their thoughts and the possible future consequences of these new developments. Hacket cleared his threat.

“Your assessment concurs with our own specialists, Commander, Doctor T'Soni. We believe this group represents a new threat. One that, on the heels of the galactic wide devastation from the recent war, could prove the undoing of us all.”

Shepard could not quite keep the weariness and despair out of her voice, “You have a mission for me sir?” She had done the impossible, ended a threat millions of years old, united the galaxy, paid so much and sacrificed so many- and they still wanted more. A weakness, fraility wormed through her guts; like weathered granite from some ancient piece of stone surrounded by so much rubble. Liara's hand found hers and squeezed but it did little to ease the massive grey that was settling over her with cold finality. 

She dreaded the answer. Shepard knew what was going to happen- they were going to send her back out. True, she's get a ship, a good crew, maybe even her old crew. Quite possibly even the Normandy and that would be a comfort of sorts. There'd be risk, death at every moment- hers, a friend's or an enemy's. Her commitment would be absolute of course; she'd look the newest threat right in the face and put a bullet between its eyes. Her friends, her squad-mates, her crew...where she lead, they would follow.

And she was so damn tired of leading.

Already she could feel the steel demands of duty settling over her. Like great metal doors in her mind and heart they were swinging shut to crush the tiny hopes she had, up until a moment ago, been treasuring. Hopes to let go, hopes that she could just be, that they could be and she wouldn't have to point anywhere and tell others to go that way. Go that way and die.

Hacket held his hands together as if in prayer, looking over his fingertips at Commander Shepard; the wait stretched on...five seconds...ten seconds.

“Yes, Commander.” It took all she had not to slump forward, she held herself upright by sheer force of will hoping that none of the admirals would notice the sudden and violent trembling in her legs. “But not in the way you think.”

That got her attention.

“I'm afraid I don't follow, sir,” she replied. “You're not going to assign me to discover who this new enemy is and, if possible, end the threat represented?”

Hacket shook his head, his eyes probing. “No Commander, that is not our intention.”

Shepard was struck dumb for a moment. “Then why was I briefed on the situation sir?”

“There is a mission,” Admiral Chase intervened. “But-”

“Thank you,” Admiral Mikhailovich's rumble interjected. “I will take over from here,” he addressed the Commander. “The one question you have yet to ask, Commander, is the why the termination orders were brought up in the first place and to answer that question we will have to bring in our specialist.” He tapped a button set into the tabletop. “Please send her in.”

The doors at the back of the room swung open, the dry click-clack of high heeled boots striking the floor echoed through the room. Her black body suit, the overhead lights gleaming off the leather, hugged her body in all the right ways while her hips swayed; the fingers of one hand brushed errant locks of ebon hair off her shoulder. Miranda Lawson entered the room.

With an entirely incidental saunter she placed stepped to the right side of the room near a series of displays on the wall and clasped her hands behind her back in a picture perfect stance of parade-rest. She glanced at Shepard and gave a slight nod. Shepard returned the gesture; her asari leaned toward Shepard and whispered, “What is she doing here?”

Shepard shrugged a shoulder, still eying the former operative. 

Rising to his feet Admiral Mikhailovich spoke up, “Ms Lawson, thank you for joining us.”

Miranda inclined her head, “My pleasure Admiral Mikhailovich. How can I be of service?”

“You are were a former operative of Cerberus, is that correct?” The admiral asked.

“Yes,” Miranda answered. 

“And one of your responsibilities was planning, developing and the implantation of the technologies that assisted in the apparent resurrection of Commander Shepard, is that also correct?”

“Yes,” Miranda repeated.

“So it would be a fair assessment that you are the premier expert in this area?” Admiral Mikhailovich said.

And for a third time Miranda answered. “Yes.”

“Then proceed, Ms. Lawson.”

Miranda took a deep breath, brought up her omnitool with a wave and punched in some commands. Again three holo-displays hung in the air; the admirals turned in their seats to view. In the far left screen an image of a small red cube hovered. It was perfect cube with smooth, equal sides. The middle monitor showed a three-dimensional model of a human spinal column. At the base of the column was a slight aberration. Nestled at the back of the spine, where it fused with the hips, was a complicated, but small, machine. Metal braces latched onto the nearest vertebrate and tiny filaments springing from the sides coiled upward and into the nerve tissue tucked inside the bones. The display on the far right showed a profile shot representation of a human scull. Highlighted lights displayed the contours and different sections of the brain. Again there was an addition to what anyone would expect to see. Like it's slightly larger cousin along the spine, there was a streamlined, sophisticated bit of circuitry tucked around the brain stem. Where the temple would have been another patch of bright metal glimmered, obscuring that part of the the frontal lobes and between the two machines a few, barely half a dozen, tendrils shimmered over and along fragile tissues. 

Shepard suppressed a shudder, “I think those are supposed to be what it's inside me,” she whispered to Liara.

Liara said back quietly. “They are tools, Shepard. They brought you back but they do not define you.” She squeezed Shepard's thigh under the table.

Shepard gave her half a smile, “Keep saying that, I need the reminder.”

Liara nodded her own smile only visible in her eyes.

“The word nanotechnology is a lie,” Miranda began gesturing to the leftmost monitor. “Cerberus does not have it, no sentient species in galactic community have it. What we do have are tiny, sophisticated robots capable of manipulating biological cells. This was developed by myself for the Lazarus Project. Any person with rudiment knowledge will tell you that cellular manipulation is not nanotechnology. It's a popular term but misleading. However that does not belittle what was accomplished.”

With a flick of her fingers across omnitool the image sprang into life. The red squre rotated in space and then from the right side of the screen a shape drifted into the picture. It was a flat, green, circle; crusted, like leather left too long out in the sun, cracked and fraying at the edges. It was also many, many times bigger than the red square. Orienting itself on the intrude the square moved with deliberation, touched the side of the object and melted into it. Within moments the cracks had healed over, the fraying edges smoothed over and a healthy red sheen rippled across the surface.

“What you just saw is real time footage of the most advanced cellular manipulation possible today,” Miranda said. “The tiny robot entered the dead cell and replaced the nucleus, providing the initial energy and nutrients required to re-vitalize the inactive components. Similar uses were used to reactivate not only the red blood cells, which was seen, but every other part of the subjects physiology.” 

“By subject you mean Commander Shepard,” Admiral Chase declared. 

“Please save all questions for the end of the lecture,” Miranda said airily and turned her back on the admirals to face her former commanding officer. 

Shepard mouthed the words, “What are you doing?” Miranda could only give a miniscule shake of her head in reply before continuing on. 

“The second image shows the neural enhancement technology. To keep it simple it allowed for nerve transmissions along the central system to be relegated to their proper places until the subjects own system had been recovered sufficiently whereupon it switched over to an assisting role increasing reaction and reflex time, as well as shortening the amount of effort to create muscle memory by nearly twenty percent.”

“Why not more than that?” Admiral Sandoval asked.

Miranda turned to face, hips cocked and a wicked grin flashing white teeth at the admiral, “Intelligent question. That one I'll answer now.” 

Shepard had to cough behind her fist, her asari managed to remain composed. 

“Again, to keep it simple, more than that would create stresses on the musculature that could not be compensated for without causing other stresses elsewhere. The classic offense/defense problem of warfare. To build defense that can stop all possible weapons requires a power supply adequate to the task, which has weight, which requires power, which requires armor and so on and so forth.”

 

Miranda leaned back, sitting herself on the edge of Shepard's table, crossing her arms and continued.  
“The same problem presents itself here, “ she began ticking off points on her fingers. “Reinforce the nervous system, then the bones and muscles have to be enhanced to handle the strain, but that increases muscle and bone density which counters the increased reaction time, so you increase the nervous system and so on and so on....” she held out an open hand saying with out words, 'there you are.' 

“I see,” Admiral Sandoval sat back in his seat, mulling over the answer.

Miranda stood and turned around, staring down at Shepard. Her arms were still crossed, one data pad hung carelessly from her fingertips, she wasn't smiling anymore though. This was the old Miranda, the one who had greeted Shepard mere moments after shooting a traitor in the face. Her gaze swept from Shepard, to Liara and back before turning back around to resume her lecture. 

“The final implant, in the subject's brain-stem, was merely a temporary measure. Its purpose was to act as a bridge between areas of the brain that were damaged through which critical neurological activity would have to flow if the mind was to resume full function. Once the brain itself had been rejuvenated to a satisfactory degree the implant shut down and would only have reactivated in the case of mild brain damage. “

And then she said coolly, “But that was then.”

Without even looking at it she punched a series of commands into the datapad, “This is now. These images are of a blood sample taken six months ago and computer reconstructions of various scans done of the subject at the same time.”

The holo-displays changed. The new images were similar to what had been there but only just. The leftmost, originally showing the cubical Cerberus nano-bot was now replaced by something far less benign in appearance. 

Black.

Shimmering.

Streamlined.

The body was a teardrop shaped, smooth curves surging around a pointed apex from which appeared countless tiny fronds drifting in an unseen current. There was more to it that that though- the fronds moved of their own volition. Shifting, some darting out here and there, others wafting gently back and forth but all of it seeming to imply that there was a thought process behind the activity. Something seeing, knowing and reacting to events around it. 

The image in the central display was similar to what had originally been there. Again there was a three dimensional image of a spinal column and at the base, still nestled where vertebrate met pelvis was an obvious synthetic implant. Where the original had been a somewhat boxlike in appearance the image now showed something alien. Again, black metal shimmered, the implant being all curves. The edges were ill defined as they appeared to have merged with the surrounding bone and muscle tissue. The original implant had had a few attachments spinning off the main body and into the spinal column; now a veritable forest of black wire spiraled out of the machine. Curving about, plunging between and merging with the delicate nerves tucked behind bone. All the way from the base of the spine to where it met the skull, black, shimmering metal could be seen glistening from between separate vertebrate. 

The final image in the display farthest to the right had shown a profile shot of the inside of a human skull complete with diagram of the brain. Now it was replaced with another three dimensional model- this one also of a human brain; the model spun around on all three axis, rotating over and under, around and about. Crossing back and forth, like some ebon hued spider web, tiny filaments hugged themselves to the contours of various lobes. From the brain stem, wrapped around the entire structure was another black ...thing. Obviously of manufacture, it clung flush to the critical tissues it embraced. From below, up through the hole in the skull, snarled a swarm of filaments that all plunged into bottom of the device. From the top erupted the even finer attackments that formed the web-work that surrounded the brain itself. The minute empty space that normally existed between the hemispheres in a human mind was gone. Bridged over and, for lack of a better term, bridged by a seething mass of black fibers. 

Shepard chocked back the urge to vomit. The shaking in her legs had gotten worse and, ignoring the frantic tugging from her asari's hand still on her thigh, she forced herself to her feet. Pointing to the monitors she asked the question that she already knew the answer to, “What the hell is that!?”

 

Miranda gazed back at her, nonplussed, “Obvious Commander, those are what's become of Cerberus implants,” she cast a look over her shoulder at the displays. “And no one even asked me before they changed all my work.”

She shook her head slightly in apparent disapproval and walked toward the other side of the room away from her former commanding officer, not paying any attention to the quietly whispered, so quietly that only an asari and herself heard it, denial of : “No.”

“In the first display you can see, from what we can estimate, the current galaxy's first true nano-bot.,” Miranda continued. “In truth they move so fast that it's proven nearly impossible to get an image of one, even at the high capture speed possible. Admirals,” she turned to the officers seated behind the raised dais. “This is a true nano-bot. “

Shepard was only half listening, she held her hands in front of her, staring at her empty palms, studying them intently. 

“What is even more staggering is they appear to be generating their own mass effect fields.”

The quiet gasp from Liara echoed around the room causing Miranda to grin at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “I know,” the former Cerberus operative snickered before going on. 

“A nano-bot with a mass effect field,” she repeated. “This would allow it the device to reach unparallelled velocities and complete whatever enhancements and tasks assigned to it at breathtaking speeds. It would counter any threats from heat build up from friction and, to a lesser degree, provide a work around for the aforementioned problems that Admiral Sandoval's question raised, to a degree. “ 

“Meaning what exactly?” Admiral Chase asked. Her upper lip shone with a layer of sweat.

“Meaning that Shepard is faster, stronger and more durable by any other human, treated with Cerberus implants or genetic tailoring.”

“By what margin?” Admiral Chase insisted.

“No idea,” Miranda replied with a shrug. She turned and stared at Shepard in an almost predatory manner. “We'd have to see. We did manage to record this-”

The screen split into two halves. The tiny squid thing was moving with deliberation now, moving toward a homogenous red...thing. A seething mountain of red fibers, stretching away forever in all directions, on the other half of the screen was obviously a red blood cell. The tiny squid thing began to glow, a deep purple halo tinging on black and on the other screen the entire cell glowed in similar colors. There was a flash of dark purple light and the cell had...changed. It was now encased in   
Shepard was still staring at her hands, a tiny part of her mind, gibbering in terror that she was fighting to keep bolted down, locked inside and tucked away behind layers of mental walls. She noted absently how Liara was taking deep, deliberate slow breaths, the way the asari's gloves were slowing peeling away from the blue skin underneath as fingernails sliced through the tough material. 

“The second image is the result of similar alterations to the Cerberus implant married to the subject's nervous system. Originally designed to allow for damage control of the tissue and slight augmentation the ...alterations have completely re-wired the original nervous system. I have coined the term 'hardwired'. The difference in reaction time between the original organics and what we have here is comparable to a child's first telephone made with two soup-cans and a string with a quantum string communication hub.”

Her gorge heaved in her chest and Shepard almost lost her footing her knees were shaking so badly. She caught herself and leaned forward, putting her palms on the table, letting her head hang. Liara was muttering something that sounded vaguely like a prayer. Shepard felt numb.

Miranda waved her hand that the right most display, “As I said, the original implant was for a temporary purpose, that, as you can see plainly, is no longer the case. No, we have no idea what's happening here except to say that it would explain the increased activity detected in the subject's brain all these months. However what we do know is this:”

The image zoomed in for a close up of the implant itself. 

“According to the signatures that have been picked up from the implant this device is no longer just a central-command and control hub for the implants. The scanners have detected what we believe is a quantum wave-form.”

Admiral Sandoval again asked a question, “You mean similar to the communication relays on several of the larger ships of the line?”

Miranda shook her head, “No Admiral. Wrong kind of energy signature. From what I've been able to gather and let me stress this next bit, from what I believe, there is some sort of quantum data trove tucked into the device.”

“Data?” Admiral Mikhailovich queried.

“Some sort of information,” Miranda answered. “If I'm right and my math holds up, aspects of the code allow for the data to be held in a stable quantum format. Both here and not here. If we follow that reasoning the amount of information possibly held here could,” she spread her hands. “Limitless.

“What kind of data?” Admiral Mikhailovich asked.

“No clue,” the raven haired woman replied with a shrug. “But even if the data itself was useless the technology to maintain this kind of set up would change ...everything.”

With the flick of a finger the former operative shut down the displays.

Shepard's breathing shuddered in her throat, her stomach was roiling about and she could barely feel it when Liara reached up, grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into her seat. Her asari leaned over and hissed into Shepard's ear, “Those are not you! Do you hear me Shepard? They are machines. They are only machines, Shepard. They do not make you, or define you. I know how you think Shepard and part of you right now is terrified that what you are seeing here somehow makes you less than human. We're going to settle this right now- They do not.”

Liara's grip on the corner of the Spectre's uniform tightened, “I said, you. Are. Human!”

And Shepard quietly snarled, “I know.”

Flickers of anger rushed along lines inside her, she welcomed it. She needed it, she could feed her fear to it, allow it consume her weakness and disgust and then use it to make sure-

“Is everything alright Commander?” Admiral's voice could be heard, not in any way actually concerned, or so Shepard thought.

Cobalt steel eyes, with all the reflective appeal of lead, glared up at the admiral, “Yes ma'am. I'm just fine.” Doors slammed down hard in her mind, blowing away the paralytic effect of these newborn terrors like snowflakes in a blast furnace. 

“Good,” Admiral Chase replied, oblivious. “Thank you Ms Laws-”

“A moment more,” Miranda interrupted. “If I might inquire, why did you want this report? I already sent you my findings personally. And yes, I'm more than aware I'm not military.”

Admiral Hacket said simply “We needed the commander to see. Do you understand Commander?”

The operative accepted the unspoken dismissal and stepped back to the nearest wall, tapping her data pad against one thigh absently. 

The Spectre nodded grimly, “Yes sir.”

“Are you ready to hear about the mission then?”  
Another grim nod, crushing any sense of betrayal or outrage in her heat, “Yes sir.”

“Good, tell me commander, how do you think these changes to your implants occurred.”

She answered in monotone voice, without inflection, eyes boring into an empty spot on the front of the dais. “At a guess I'd have to say it was Harbinger sir.”

“Please explain.”

And she did. She told them of her final moments with The Illusive Man, the conversation with Harbinger and her escape from The Citadel. She told of how she could have sworn she had heard Harbinger's pronouncement of doom as she lay dying in the heart of London. 

She did not tell them what Harbinger had named her.

Hacket nodded slowly, he looked older now than he had a few minutes before. “Thank you commander. We had assumed something similar. Somehow you've received a...for lack of better term, upgrade. Ms Lawson has little idea what that means but that the technology incorporated is, in all likelihood, our best chance at defeated this newest threat.”

Liara pushed herself to her feet, her chair scraping on the floor loudly, marring the bright finish of polished steel. “What exactly are you saying Admiral?”

“Commander,” Hacket replied heavily. “You have to understand. Even by your own admission the enemy we face has vastly superior technology. Were they engaging in direct combat, or even our own forces at their prime it probably would be an annoyance at best. But they're hitting us in our weak points. The alliance is going to crumble under its own weight and inertia if we don't find them and kill them fast and hard. It's the worst kind of war, Commander. We need to counter their technological edge and you're our best chance of doing that quickly.”

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before soldiering on. “Your mission is to report to the base hospital. There you will undergo surgery to have your implants removed for study and reverse engineering. We have...employed the best experts in the field and they have assured us there is a ...reasonable risk factor and even, perhaps, the possibility full physical and mental recovery.”

Miranda had stepped away from the wall, arms crossed, her fingers still tapping on the data pad. 

Silence. Nothing. A void of emptiness filled the room. The finger's of Liara's hand, curved into a fist that visibly shook. Shepard put her own hand over her asari's fist in a gesture of restraint. She made a shushing sound ignoring Liara's incredulous stare. 

She stood up slowly, straightened the wrinkles out of her dress blues with a practiced motion staring Admiral Hacket directly in the face.

“I see, sir,” she said calmly. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you will be held under the clear and present danger clause of the current constitution,” Admiral Chase answered. She licked her upper lip free of sweat. “You've been implanted with Reaper-tech Commander Shepard, it would be for the public safety.”

Shepard went numb.

As our time ends your people will harvest us. Learn from us, grow from us. Perhaps you will turn your new found strength upon each other,

Liara was shouting something now, her voice ringing with outrage, the smell of ozone began to permeate the room, behind her over the tumult doors were opening. Heavy footsteps pounding on metal floors, armored boots then, troops, enforcers, they were not going to give her a chance to go quietly. 

Miranda was tapping her data pad even harder now.

Would they kill Liara if she didn't cooperate? 

The tapping began to grate on Shepard's nerves.

Wouldn't it be better to go down fighting?

She was still so damn tired.

Would she please stop tapping her damn data pad?

Shepard felt her lips curling in a snarl-

The tapping. Three long taps, a pause, three short another pause, three more long. Then the cycle repeated. Shepard felt her eyes grow huge at the realization, she turned her head to stare at Mirdanda. The former operative caught Shepard's eyes and glanced down at her other hand, resting on her upper arm, five fingers splayed across the black material of her body suit.

Five, she curled a finger, four, another finger-

“Liara!” Shepard turned and dove for her asari, “Get down!” 

The back of the room exploded. 

The glass windows blew inward with concussive forces, the curtains torn to shreds and sent spiraling into the air, drifting down in shredded tatters. The raised dais was sent blasting across the room, smashing into the floor and cracking the tiles only to go tumbling end over to end, tearing itself to pieces. The admirals themselves lay on the at the base of the former dais, apparently unconscious....or dead.

Shepard scrambled to her feet, pulling a very dazed looking Liara up after her. Miranda groaning slightly stumbled over to stand beside them- blinking away tears Shepard started through the dust cloud of the explosion.  
Hovering gently just beyond the now gaping hole in the side of the building, the gentle curves of her silver and blue hull reflecting the lights of the mid-afternoon, was the Normandy. Her gangplank was lowered and hung only meter off the ground. And there, armed and armored, tethered to a hook at the top of the ship, was Garrus Vakerian.

He flashed the three woman a brilliant turian smile, flickering his mandibles wide for a moment then shouted, “Someone order a pizza?”

He snapped off two controlled bursts from his rifle directly at them, before they had a chance to duck. The rounds whipped between the women and caught the two marines that had been running up behind them square in the face plates, knocking them back with such force their shoulders slammed into the ground.

“Concussion rounds,” the turian vigilante shouted, still grinning. “Honest!”


	5. Blue: Cerulean: Four

Drain Bramged Inc. Proudly Presents.  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue:Cerulean:Four

 

“Go!” Shepard bellowed. “Go, go,gogog. GO!”

She reached down, grabbed Liara by one wrist and hauled her to her feet; with other hand she grabbed the Miranda's collar and shoved her toward the newly blasted whole in the wall, the former agent stumbled over some debris but did not fall, Shepard's grip was holding her upright. Shepard began to run, one hand pulling Liara behind her, the other pushed Miranda in front. Garrus continued to fire, short bursts of fire meant to keep an enemy pinned rather than kill shots. 

“They really want that extra spicy pepperoni!” the turian shouted, he slapped in a fresh heat clip. “More of them coming in, better get a move on ladies!”

Their long strides carried them closer to the gangplank of the hovering Normandy not fifty meters away. 

They were not going to make it.

And Shepard knew. She knew exactly where the marines were coming from. Her back was still to the doorway and it was obvious that they had to come from there and she knew their tactics so that helped but somehow she had an exact idea of their positions at that very second. She knew what they were going to do and where they were going to be when they acted- so she acted first. 

Without breaking stride she shouted over her shoulder, “Liara, singularity my six o'clock on my mark.”

A quick two-count hissed from under her breath and she called out, “Mark!”

At the word Liara spun on one heel and blindly fired off a singularity field just as an entire squad of marines came through the door and ran head long into the mass effect field. Their own personal gravity canceled by the biotic storm sent them adrift, flailing helplessly in mid-air.

“It's your lucky day, boys!” Garrus roared over the heavy thrum of the ship's engines. He lined up his shots with the ease of experience and pulled the trigger exactly six times. Six helmets snapped back as the concussions rounds smashed into them, the kinetic energy diffused by the armor but still retaining enough of a kick to blast the soldiers into unconsciousness. If any did manage to stay awake, the resulting push in their temporary zero-g situation and the subsequent ricocheting off various walls, the floor and in one poor marines case, the ceiling, knocked any remaining fight out of them.

Miranda reached the gangplank first and leaped aboard, Liara second as Shepard had pulled the asari in front of her after she had let fly with the singularity. Shepard braced herself to leap and never saw it coming. A flying body tackly hit her from the right, directly under her ribs punching the air out of her lungs. The armored form of Ashley Williams straddled her, fist raised, teeth flashing in a rictus of hate and fury. 

“I knew it!” the second spectre snarled. “You're a traitor!”

Shepard weezed, trying to suck in air and at the same time ask her friend, 'are you kidding me?' but she couldn't focus. Flashing dots danced in front of her eyes, she could barely make out the fist coming down at her face and raised one arm feebly in her defense, one that she knew wouldn't work. So both women were surprised when Shepard's hand flashed out to catch Ashley’s fist in a grip of steel.

The other spectre blinked, then whispered. “Nice catch, skipper.”

Shepard also blinked, less in surprise and more in an effort to clear her vision. She almost missed Ashley's next words.

“Hit me!” 

“Wha-?” Shepard slurred. 

“Hit me, dammit!”

“Yur...you're wearing armor,” Shepard's tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

“Your omniblade!” Shepard saw Ashley roll her eyes behind her visor. “Duh! My shields are maxxed, I can take it.”

Shepard was a warrior. Her mind was attempting to process far too much with too little information but trained instincts are not botherd by such trivial matters. At a command her omnitool flash-manufactured a micro blade and she slashed at the marine before the short-term weapon disintegrated. The attack was clumsy, the angle making it nearly impossible to put any real force behind the blow yet the blade still shattered the armor's shields, slashing across the visor and front of the helmet, sliding into the heavy plating like butter. 

Ashley screamed and pitched sideways, rolling off of Shepard's body. Shepard scrambled to her feet, fighting off the impulse to go to the fallen marine, check the damage, get her out of there, to protect her fellow soldier. Ashley's hand was clasped to her helmet and Shepard could see bright red blood oozing from under her fingers but Ashley’s blue eyes blazed from behind the vizor, clear steady and obviously imparting the message, 'Get the fuck out of here.'

Right until a biotic bolt sent her tumbling across the room. Shepard snapped her head around to see Liara standing at the edge of the gangplank, one arm outstretched in the direction of the still rolling marine. “Shepard, are you alright?” the asari called out.

“Yeah,” Shepard bit back on the hostility gathered in her throat instead getting her feet under her and jogging toward the Normandy. She hopped up on the edge of the gangplank. “I'm okay.”

“Was that Ashley?” Liara asked. “I had much difficulty making out words through the noise but I'm positive I heard someone call you traitor.”

Shepard only shook her head slightly; her head started to slump but with a surge of will she stayed ramrod straight. 

'Anderson?" she hears no response. "Sir?"

She was empty. 

She kept going.

Trying to smile convincingly Shepard answered Liara, “You'll know when I know.”

Liara narrowed her eyes slightly, “Very well, Shepard.”

 

They stood in the entrance to the ship proper looking out at the smoking hole in the Alliance Headquarters; scores of marines came pouring out, like angry ants, getting smaller and smaller as the frigate climbed high into the sky. Some raised their weapons, wasting fire on the ships shields. Others were attending to the fallen. Shepard could see two medics tending to Ashley where the other woman lay sprawled at the base of the wall. 

Nodding to herself she turned away and headed into the ship, calling out behind her, “Close it up, EDI.”

The AI's voice responded, “Acknowledged Commander. You are recognized as the captain of this vessel.”

“Hey Commander,” Joker's voice now came through the speakers. “Here's where the normal situations would have the part of the conversation involving 'welcome back' and 'good to see you' but we'll just skip right to the good stuff: You might want to get up here.”

Shepard broke into a run, ignoring the nausea churning in her gut, she glanced over her shoulder to confirm Liara, Miranda and Garrus were moving up behind her. They sprinted across the cargo hold toward the elevator.

The elevator doors slip open and the quartet stepped inside.

“Why does Joker always make that suggestion?” Liara asked between breaths. “He's the pilot. There is not much we can do to assist in flight operations.”

Joker's voice rang through the elevator. “The view is really pretty.”

Garrus snorted quietly, stifling a snicker and said nothing.

The elevator doors opened, Shepard took the lead stepping around the galaxy map. She did not look left or right as she moved at a brisk walk down the central corridor leading to cockpit. She stoically ignored the crew manning their posts and more so she ignored her now crystal clear memories. She ignored the whisper in her mind that was filling her in on every fact that she had known and forgotten. 

At the heat recycling center, Ensign Mathers. Two tours, five years good service. Father of two; brother a marine KIA. The last time they had spoken he had told her of his son's fifth birthday for exactly six minutes and ten seconds.

Power distribution, Ensign Tuttle. Third tour. Seven years good service. Permanent black mark for striking a superior officer during training. Single. No family. He never spoke to Shepard outside of duties but she remembered every book she had seen him reading in the mess hall. During the Reaper War he had been reading Of Mice and Men.

Secondary Weapons Control. Manders. Former Cerberus specialist. 

That made Shepard take a mental pause. All the original crew of the SR2 had vanished per her suggestions at the Citadel right before the return to earth so long ago. Now here was one, she glanced around, no...there were at least six other crew members from the original crew. She could remember, with perfect clarity she could remember, their faces when she had saved them. The twitching, sweating pale faces looking at her. Begging her without say anything- pleading with her to fix everything and let them get back to their lives....

Shepard gave her head a mild shake, snapping herself back to the now. She processed what she had quickly- members of both the alliance and Cerberus crews were mixed together and on the Normandy right now.   
If Miranda, Liara or Garrus had noticed anything while she had been lost in memories, they didn't say anything. A moment later they had entered the cockpit.

“Commander,” Joker began; Shepard's fist clenched convulsively . “We got Alliance cap-ships breaking orbit on decent vectors. We have a plan?”

“Shepard! Nothing's happening, The Crucible has docked but nothing's happening!" Hackett's voice, demanding a plan.

“Uh....” Inside, part of her sunk deeper into despair. Again, for reasons she could not understand, everything hinged on her. She controlled her breathing, attempting to retain the appearance of normality. She stood at attention, feet spread, hands behind her back. “I'm guessing the Alliance will be wanting to talk with us,” she began. “I didn't care for where the conversation was going a moment ago so let's not let it continue. Get us to the relay Joker.”

“For what location shall we plot a course, Commander?” EDI asked. Shepard clenched the hand behind her back into a fist. 

 

"Your mission is to report to the base hospital. There you will undergo surgery to have your implants removed for study and reverse engineering. We have...employed the best experts in the field and they have assured us there is a ...reasonable risk factor and even, perhaps, the possibility of full physical and mental recovery,” Hackett's voice.

“Away, EDI. Away.”

Shepard felt soft fingers touch her fist, she looked over her shoulder at Liara; the asari just stared at her pointedly. The spectre gave a small shake of her head which Liara accepted with a quiet nod of her own.

“Coming up on the interceptors, Commander,” Joker reported. “Exiting orbit in five....”

The Normandy gave a sudden lurch, flashes of light illuminated the consoles. 

“That was definetly not a warning shot,” Garrus shouted. He took the rightmost console and slipped into the seat. “Weapons control online,” he said. “The target it painted.”

“Hold fire!” Shepard snapped. “We are not shooting at our own ships.”

Garrus seemed ready to protest but shrugged with a nod, “Alright Shepard. Target dropped.”

Shepard turned to the robotic woman sitting in the co-pilot's seat, “EDI?”

“I have infiltrated the enemies-”

“No,” Shepard interrupted. “Not enemies. Those are alliance ships!”

“Misguided people accidentally attempting to deliberately murder us then,” Joker supplied. “Under orders of course.”

EDI started over, “Cyber Warfare attacks are completely successful. The-” she paused. “alliance ships are now blind to our exact location. At our current speed we will be out detection range in seventeen seconds.”

“Joker, get us behind the moon and prep for stealth,” Shepard ordered.

“Aye aye, Commander,” Again Shepard flinched, Liara's grip over her fist tightened and Shepard more felt, than heard, the asari's quiet whisper. “I'm here.”

And Shepard couldn't see clearly. A blur covered her eyes, she tore her hands from Liara, leaned toward a console opposite the direction the rest of the group were faces, as if inspecting some datafeed and frantically rubbed at her eyes with one hand.

“Aaaannnnd,” Joker drew the word out. “We're clear.”

“Course plotted for the relay,” EDI added. “The alliance will be waiting for us.”

“Please,” Joker interjected. “We're running quiet, we're fast, I know what they'll be doing and best of all, I'm flying This'll be cake.”

And out of nowhere, sounding very Scottish, Garrus said, “Our navy is not the worry, it's the Americans that are the worry.”

“Okay,” Joker nodded with a laugh. “Now that actually was a good movie which means we have to wonder why it was part of Shepard's collection.”

Shepard wanted to laugh with them, she could feel a tug inside- the familiarly, the camaraderie. Movie nights, the talks afterward, the drinking games: all these had gotten them all through more than one time or another during the darkest of moments.

A trio of turian Frigates dive beneath an oncoming Reaper vessel; with casual, arrogant, grace the living machine flicks out a massive arm, neatly bisecting one before orienting its killing beam at the other two.

She felt outside looking in; she grit her teeth to bite back something crawling up her throat.

Shepard swallowed, “ETA on the relay”?

“Forty-five minutes,” EDI supplied. 

Shepard nodded, “Good work people,” she took a breath to continue but Miranda spoke up. 

“Commander, we really should talk about what's just happened. There are some thing you ought to know. Also the crew should be briefed as well-”

“In...uh...” Shepard swallowed. “In a bit, Miranda. There's some-” again she faltered. “There's some things I have- I have to go.”

And she spun on her heel and walked toward the rear of the command deck and she didn't look back. When the elevator doors shut behind her, she didn't look back once.

Joker whistled low and said, “That is not good.”

Garrus nodded in agreement. “Not even a little.”

Without a word Liara moved to follow but Miranda's gripped her by her upper arm. “Are you sure that's wise?”

Liara looked at the former Cerberus operative coolly. After a moment the other woman glanced away and let go. Liara headed for the elevator. 

When the doors opened at the top floor the short hallway leading to the captain's cabin blazed with light. The cabin doors themselves were open and Liara stepped through without hesitation. Shepard was sitting on the sofa in the corner of the room. Her feet were up on the small table, arms behind her head; she was staring up through a small window through which the streaming effect of FTL speeds blazed colors between the stars. For all intents and purposes Shepard looked like a person taking a quiet moment to themselves, totally at peace with themselves.

Liara strode down the few steps to the main area and took a seat next to her human. Shepard glanced at her then returned to looking up and out into space. The silence lay all around them, gentle but bearing down- necessity was warring with demand and they could both feel the tension. 

Finally Shepard said. “I love all these old movies but the trouble with them is that the film makers made so many different versions of dramatic cliches.”

Liara leaned back in her seat, getting more comfortable.“I don't understand,” she rested her clasped hands across her stomach, attempting to appear relaxed, casual even.

“Some of the trashier movies were about as subtle as a hammer,” replied Shepard shrugging.

“Involving?”

“Trying to get the audience to feel, to empathize with the characters in the most ham-fisted way,” Shepard chuckled quietly, a dry thing that had no humor in it. “The overwhelmed hero runs off to a dark room and drinks themselves stupid. Or mindless sex.”

The spectre shifted slightly, a sneering half smile on her face. “That was a good one, they did that a lot. Both of them sometimes.”

Again the dry, empty laugh. “Pathetic.”

Liara pursed her lips, before she said quietly. “Mindful sex is a better alternative.”

Shepard appeared to have not heard. “It's just, I had my little breakdown already, Liara. Last night.”

“Shepard, you don't have a limited number. You can react to-”

“That's just it, though,” Shepard sat bolt upright, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am really, really angry right now. Fucking enraged. The idea of smashing something, anything- “ she broke off, took a deep breath and started over.

“I'm also scared out of my mind,” she continued started rubbing the palms of her hands together as if they were cold. “Let's throw in an acid-stomach full of betrayal and grief. Confusion as well.”

Liara shook her head in sympathy, “I cannot imagine-”

“Don't finish that sentence!” The sharp near shout of command caused the asari to jump in her seat. Shepard's arm was outstretched, finger pointing at Liara face, like an arrow. Through gritted teeth Shepard growled, “Don't you dare finished that sentence.”

Liara swallowed, held both hands up palms out and ducking her heard replied, “I apologize if I offended-”

Shepard blinked, her eyes flickered down for a moment than back up, “That's not it. Sorry. It's...uh...The last time you said something like that to me Liara,” the human stopped.”When we picked up up on Mars you said pretty much the same thing about Earth being lost to The Reapers. You could not imagine how it felt but you found out. When Thessia fell, you found out and it killed me watching you hurt. I wouldn't wish this, what I'm feeling right now, on anyone, much less you.” she reached out and took one of Liara's hands in her own.

Now it was Liara's turn to need a moment to process. 

“I...thank you Shepard.”

“Yeah,” Shepard leaned back against the sofa again, not letting go of her asari's hand, fingers intertwined. Liara casually slide a two fingers along Shepard's wrist and over the other woman's pulse for a moment. Shepard's heart was racing despite her outwardly calm appearance. Attempting to appear equally at ease Liara squeezed Shepard's hand tight.

Shepard smiled to herself and muttered, “I can't be the commander anymore. They took that away from me.”

“That's why you're reacting whenever anyone calls you that,” Liara replied.

 

“Liara?” asked Shepard, ignoring her asari's response.

“Yes?”

“I think I want to quit.”

And the world dropped out from under Liara.

“I'm all used up,” Shepard shrugged. She shrugged! As if her words were just a casual nothing and not the absolute paradigm shattering series of syllables they were.”Just all empty inside. I think.”

“Shepard-” Liara tried to rally, scrambling in her own head to find some way to have the words to put all this right. Her fingers slackened and her hand fell out of Shepard's. The spectre herself stood up and walked casually toward the bed, hands behind her back; after a moment Shepard looked over her shoulder at Liara. 

“I don't want to feel this way,” she turned to face her asari. “I just- I'm tired,” she held her hands out palms up. ”That's the best way I can put it. Empty and I'm just so tired!”

Liara's mouth stuttered, “It- It's been a very bad-”

Shepard screamed,“It's almost only been bad Liara!”

Anything casual in her how she held herself was gone. Her shoulder's were hunched, arms bent, fists clenched so tightly the knuckles popped. “That's all it's been; for years now! Yes, there have been good moments, one spectacular one and I've done everything I could to make them all worth it and make sure the one paying had to be me!”

Shepard ran clawed fingernails through her hair causing Liara to wince.

“I thought I was dead. Again I mean,” her human fumed. “There was no way I could survive- I believed that, in The Citadel. I let go, do you understand? I. Let. Go! You have no idea how good it was to wake up and see you. To know so many of those I love so much had survived. That we, as a galaxy, had survived. I … God damnit Liara. I was ready to rest. I was ready, so very ready to stop being 'the commander!'

Shepard blinked, ran a hand over her eyes and started at her fingertips her eyes widening, “Shit, tears again.

She shook her head fiercely, “No. Not this time, not now. I'm not asking for fair, Liara. I know there's no such thing as fair. Hell, in combat I make sure there's as little as 'fair' as possible for the enemy. And yes, I've been betrayed by,” Shepard rolled a wrist in an all encompassing gesture. “...them. By Earth. I know this should be playing ping-pong with my brains and I cannot even begin to think about how much I want to throw up, scream, fuck, drink myself blind and die all at the same time.”

 

She took turned her back on Liara put her hands on her hips and said to the far wall, “I want to quit.”

Slowly Liara stood up and extended her hands palm out. The biotics surged across the room without warning, plucked Shepard off the ground like a feather.

With a cry of “Liara!” as the air was forced from her lungs Shepard slammed into the wall. The smell of ozone seared her nostrils while the angry buzzing of energy rang in her ears. She couldn't move, one cheek forced flat against the unyielding surface. 

“Surrender then, commander,” Liara said.

“What? I don't-” she was interrupted as biotic energy swirled around her and she rolled, perpendicular to the floor, along the wall knocking off frames and into bulkheads until she was again pinned; this time facing outward. Liara stood in the middle of the room one finger pointing at her, guiding the energies that held the spectre to the wall. “It's very simple, commander.”

“Stop calling me that!” Shepard shouted.

“Surrender,” Liara leered at her human. “You cannot hope to win.”

Languidly Liara strolled up the stairs to the desk behind the display of model ships. Looked directly into Shepard's eyes through the glass case the casually reached down and plucked a framed set of dog-tags off the surface.

“You want to quit,” Liara nodded examining her prize. She ran a fingertip over the glass surface of the framed tags, crooked a fingernail and in a tiny flash of biotics shattered the protective covering. She hooked a finger through the chains of the tags and began to lazily pull them from the frame. “Surrender then.”

“Stop it, Liara!” Shepard shouted. “I order you to let me go!”

Liara chuckled, a wet throat sound. “You're not the commander, commander,” she pulled the dog-tags free and let them hand from two fingers. She started to twirl the tiny metal symbols around and around until they were a blur through the air. 

“If you're going to quit, Shepard,” the asari said. “You won't be needing these anymore.”

“Stop it, Liara,” Shepard said quietly. “I know what you're doing.”

“Do you?” Liara cocked a half smile, hands on her hips the dog-tags dangling along one thigh. “Tell me.”

“You're trying to get me angry.”

“Is it working?”

“No,” Shepard shook her head, she had that much freedom of movement.

Liara gathered the chained tags until the nestled in the palm of one hand and held it out to Shepard, “These do not define you.”

Then the asari closed her eyes in concentration and raw biotic power surged between her clenched fingers.

“No!” Shepard's roar echoed through the cabin, muscles tensed, tendons flexed and she was seething off the wall arms outstretched, she landed catlike on the floor, came up, grabbed the startled asari by the wrist that held the dog-tags and forced her none-too-gently against the glass wall of the aquarium. 

Liara stared into her human's face, Shepard returned the unblinking gaze.

“You cannot surrender,” Liara whispered. “You don't know how.”

Sheperd's gaze flickered between her asari's blue eyes and her clenched fist from which the tail ends of the dog-tags chains hung.

 

“I wish....” Shepard began but faltered.

“What do you wish?” Liara pressed. 

“Wishes are pointless,” Shepard barked. She ducked her head, looking down at the floor. 

With her free hand Liara raised her fingertips under Shepard's chin and gently, almost forcing the spectre to meet her gaze once again. 

“Everyone wishes, Shepard. The wishes that we know we can actually have are part of what drives us. So, answer me please,” she paused. “Answer me, love. What is it you wish?”

Twisting away from Liara's fingertips beneath her chin Shepard looked into the water in the aquarium against which she still held the asari. “I wish to be selfish.”

Liara laughed out loud, “If any sentient is entitled to a bit of selfishness it's you.”

“Can I really?” Shepard replied, still looking away. “For just a little while?”

“Only you can give yourself permission.”

“That would mean surrendering, Liara. You said it yourself- I don't know how to do that,” Shepard turned her head so now she was staring at the fist Liara still held tightly shut over Shepard's old alliance dog-tags.” Show me, Liara. Tell me what to want.”

Liara swallowed. “Shepard, I-” 

“Please!” Shepard's plea felt alien to the asari. “Liara, just...tell me what to do.'

“Let me go,” Liara said quietly. Shepard did and stepped back, hugging herself. 

“What you said, all your wants,” the asari murmured, tossing the dog-tags onto the table and stepping directly into Shepard's personal space. “All whirling around in your head.”

Her human nodded. 

“Fight, quit, rage, desire, despair, yes?”

Again the nod.

Liara reached up and caressed one of her human's cheeks, running her fingers up along the jawline, through the thick hair over one ear until her hand gently cupped Shepard's head. “And the only thing you feel clearly, amongst this storm of wants in your mind, is you want me to tell you what you want?”

A third nod.

Liara leaned close, her lips sliding through the air between them and she breathed into Shepard's ear, “You want me.”

The snarl ripped out of Shepard's throat like a beast slipping a chain; Liara reciprocated by yanking Shepard's face toward hers. Their lips met but with characteristic impatience Shepard practically forced her tongue into Liara's mouth only to find a similar instance on the asari's part. The spectre relished in the flavor and textures or her lover; in her minds eye she could imagine the dark blue flesh, hot and sweet, burning and soothing at the same time, in her mouth, twining, twirling, dancing with her own. 

Shepard shifted her weight, grinding her hips upward so Liara was pressed again against the aquarium, the asari's upper-back braced; Liara lifted her legs off the floor, twining them around her human's waist and pulled the other woman closer. Shepard's mouth fell open at the contact; her body pressed against Liara's, her asari's demands of her. Still braced against the glass Liara clasped Shepard's face between her palms forcing the other woman to look into her eyes.

“You want me,” she said again. Shepard nodded, an involuntary but completely welcome response.

Her lips formed the words, “So much,” without any conscious thought on her part. She leaned against Liara's hands eager to continue, needing to taste her asari. Liara shifted slightly so Shepard's hungry lips sealed against her neck, muttered sound of approval vibrated through her skin and she welcomed the sigh of pleasure that slipped out between her lips. One hand moved behind Shepard's head, urging her on, encouraging her to continue. 

Shepard's nipped at her asari's flesh, savored the slightly rougher texture of her skin, felt herself growing heady at the scent of her lover sparkling in her mind as reality and memory of other times collided behind her eyes. Shepard eased her hand under Liara's shirt, fingernails tracking delicate lines across the flat belly underneath and up higher, slowly higher.

Liara's head fell back against the cool glass of the aquarium, she closed her eyes in anticipation-

“Please don't space me,” Joker's voice in every way but the literal shattered the moment around them. “We're approaching the relay and we have a bit of a situation.”

“God damn it!” Shepard sword loudly. Liara's head fell forward resting on Shepard's shoulder. 

“You're dead,” Garrus' voice came through the intercom.

“Fine Joker,” Shepard growled into Liara's shirt. “We'll be right there.”

“Very dead,” Garrus said.

“They had nearly a whole hour!” Joker protested. “I put it off as long as- they should be done- I mean I would-”

“Nice,” Garrus drew the word out. “Way to broadcast your staying power over an open com.”

“I hate you,” Joker grumbled and killed the com.

Shepard stepped back, the tug inside her chest screamed as she felt the heat from Liara's body fade away. They stood before each other; Shepard's hands on Liara's waist, the asari's once again holding Shepard's face between her palms. 

“You don't surrender,” Liara whispered. She traced Shepard's lips with her forefinger. 

“I want to,” Shepard whispered back.

“No you don't,” Liara replied. “You want me.”

“But-”

“You,” Liara kissed her human. “Want,” another kiss, this one lingering just long enough for Shepard to begin leaning into it. “Me,” and the third kiss curled Shepard's toes in her boots.

“Any more arguments?” Liara gasped.

“What else do I want?” Shepard whispered, her eyes were huge.

Liara stepped away, turned and began walking to the entrance of the cabin. With one hand she hooked Shepard's fingers and pulled the commander along after her.

“You want to have the rest of us beside you, where we've always been,” the door hissed open and the two of them walked down the short hallway to the elevator. When the car arrived they both entered. Liara waited a moment before looking at Shepard pointedly. Her human pushed the button for the command deck.

“We're going to beat this Shepard, not you. We. The crew that rescued you, rescued us, your friends, your family,” Liara paused and an old feeling of slight embarrassment caused her to blush just a bit. “Your love.”

Shepard squeezed Liara's hand, “My love,” she said in agreement.

“Are you ready, Shepard?” Liara asked.

“I'm still feeling very messed up, Liara.”

“But are you ready, commander?”

Shepard stood, the elevator doors opened.

“Yes, yes I am,” and the two of them exited the elevator.

But Shepard didn't let go of Liara's hand.


	6. Blue: Cerulean: Five

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents

A Mad-Hamlet Production.

Blue: Cerulean: Five

"What's wrong," Shepard barked striding into the cockpit. Joker was an ever present feature in the pilot's seat, EDI's body in the co-pilot's. Miranda was a examining the instruments over Joker's shoulder with Garrus at the weapons control.

"I respectfully submit that you do not kill me until after we've run the alliance blockade," Joker said without looking up. His hands flashed over the holographic controls, eyes darting from one display to another; the complex multitasking did not appear to affect his ability to speak in the slightest. "Dead pilot's just don't fly that great."

"I'll take it under advisement," Shepard muttered moving forward, "you said something about a blockade?"

"They're surrounding the relay," Joker confirmed. "Unless I alter course or slow us down we'll be right on top of them in under five minutes."

"All stop, quick quiet." Shepard demanded.

"Aye-aye," Joker obeyed, punching in a series of short commands. "All stop, quick quiet. Coming about for counter-thrust."

Shepard peered at one of the displays. It showed The Normandy's current location, far outside the orbit of Pluto, their intended destination and the relay. All around the relay were a lot of red dots. "Why can't red just mean something fuzzy?" Shepard muttered to herself. Turning her thoughts back to the matter at hand she poked at the display, her fingertip passing through the hologram. "Exactly how many ships are there?"

"Um..." Joker paused. "All of them?"

"There are approximately fifteen Everest class dreadnaughts in a sphere formation with the relay at the center," EDI contributed coolly. "Each dreadnaught is accompanied by the standard support force of two destroyers and a cruiser. I believe this represents the bulk of the fifth fleet."

"A fleet?" Liara repeated. She sat at the navigator controls, examining the read out. "How good is our stealth system?"

"They're blind to us," Joker affirmed. "But that might not last. They could ping our IFF at any time and the automatic system would respond. We get painted- it's over."

"Since we left earth I have been attempting to find a work-around for the IFF situation," EDI confirmed. However, it is is hard-coded into ship systems. I cannot, as of yet, simply shut it down."

"Why not yank it out?" Garrus asked from where he was sitting. "It is a piece of hardware."

"Doing so would in all likelihood destroy the IFF module," EDI replied. "It is still the one from the derelict reaper. That would mean access through the Omega-4 relay would be lost. This could prove detrimental. Based on on our current status as fugitives it could be highly advantageous to have access to a relay no one else in the known galaxy can utilize."

"Provided we can get there," Garrus added over his shoulder.

"I think the last time we were there we kind of blew up the only local habitat," Joker said. "Not great living arrangements."

"The Omega-4 relay is tabled," Shepard said straightening up. "Their formation choice. That's what's going to get us through."

"Commander?" Miranda asked. Liara noticed the Shepard did not visibly flinch this time.

"A sphere is great for protecting an objective," Shepard explained. "But there are two weakness. The first is that any fleet can only bring about just over half their combined firepower onto an external target. Despite auto-targeting the chance of the back part of a sphere hitting the front half is just too great. The second, if the enemy is a small or fast, like The Normandy, once it enters a sphere formation the risk of friendly-fire increases."

"You forgot to mention that large targets in such situation get blown to pieces under one-hundred percent concentrated firepower," Garrus said holding up one finger. "The Normandy is no fighter craft."

"Oh ye of little faith," Shepard grinned; as the muscles at the corners of her mouth tightened she felt a thrill run through her. This was a real grin; the grin of someone believing they held all the cards and the next play was going to be a thing of beauty. It felt good. Without even realizing it she reached out and stroked a two-finger caress along Liara's crest. The tremble under her fingertips in response made her grin widen.

"EDI, can you simulate the IFF's return ping?" Shepard asked.

"Easily," EDI said.

"And can that broadcast data be uploaded to our remaining probes?"

EDI's metallic eyelids fluttered for a moment and a small smile crooked the corner of her mouth. "It is already done commander. Awaiting final orders."

"Full speed ahead," Shepard snapped to Joker.

"Engines to full," Joker said. "Course heading?"

Her grin, still plastered to her face, Shepard's lips curled into a snarl. "Right down their throats!"

There was the slightest of lurches as The Normandy's oversized engines howled sending the ship surging forward through empty space.

"Hmmm," Garrus mused eyes locked on the scanner. "Horribly outnumbered and heading toward certain destruction. Must be Tuesday."

"Time to relay: Two minutes, seventeen seconds," EDI observed.

Shepard said. "Can't we get any more speed?"

"Uh..." Joker gulped. "FTL might have us overshooting the replay by a just a little bit."

Miranda stepped up besides Shepard. "Clever," she whispered.

Shepard shot her a tight smile and resumed staring out the main display of The Normandy, projecting an aura of invincible confidence; just out of sight though, her right hand reached out to find Liara's who returned the grip without looking away from her station.

Seconds ticked by, a minute, one minute, thirty seconds.

"Now," Shepard thundered. "Launch all probes on an intercept course with the relay."

"Probes away," EDI replied. "Beginning IFF ping broadcast."

"Joker, maintain heading and stealth, broadcast our IFF as well. Maximum dispersal!"

"Roger that," Joker said. "EDI can you bounce echos of the IFF broadcasts off-"

"We are being scanned," EDI reported. "Activating cyber-warefare countermeasures. Standby. Twenty seconds to fleet periphery."

The front face of the armada opened fire.

Salvos of rockets launched while mass cannons tracked targets and let rip- accelerating projectiles to one point three percent light speed in seconds.

"Seventeen percent of diversionary probes destroyed," EDI said calmly. "We will enter relay range in ten seco-"

"They've locked!" Garrus cried. "Permission to knock those guns out of commission?"

"Denied!" Shepard shouted back. "Maintain course."

"We'll be fine," Miranda murmured calmly. She leaned against the rear wall of the cockpit, crossed her arms over her chest and appeared somewhat bored.

"Fifty-three percent of the probes have been destroyed; entering relay in five-"

"They've fired missiles!" Garrus shouted over the countdown.

"How many?" Joker shouted back. His hands flashing over the controls.

"Um..." Garrus studied the swarm of incoming red dots moving toward the center of the display. "Enough!"

"That's good," Joker replied. "For a moment there I was worried we wouldn't be shown the proper amount of respect!"

Shepard felt Liara's grip tighten.

"Entering relay," EDI said.

The ship glowed azure as the relay's mass effect snaked across the space, embraced The Normandy in its grip and, in a shattering display of conventional physics being blown apart, flung the ship and her crew across the galaxy.

The missiles passed through the space where The Normandy had been not half a second later.

In the cockpit of The Normandy everyone just stared in silence as the streaming blur of intra-galactic speeds whipped past the ship. For a few moments no one said anything then:

"As I said," Miranda said, shrugging one shoulder. "We'll be fine."

Garrus nodded, tapping a few keys on the holographic controls to give his fingers something to do.

"Joker, get us to the Terminus systems. Once there put us in orbit around the nearest gas giant. We'll have probably built up a charge by then," Shepard ordered.

"You got it, commander."

Shepard turned to the rest of the people in the cockpit with her. "Everyone else, to the meeting room. I have a few questions."

Five minutes later they were all seated around the conference table in the small lounge that had once been the science lab before the SR2 had been recommissioned by the alliance.

From her seat Shepard asked the open air. "Joker you hearing this alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good," Shepard nodded and turned slowly in her chair, looking at the others. To her right from the head of the table was Liara, next to her Garrus. Miranda sat to Shepard's left.

"So," Shepard said and then nothing else.

"Yeah," Garrus replied, putting his elbows on the table.

"Before you ask, commander," Miranda added. "I arranged for The Normandy and the pickup."

Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "I figured as much, Miranda. What I'm wondering is how you knew that it would be necessary."

Garrus raised a hand and at the same time Joker cleared his throat. Liara glanced at them her brows knit and a small frown on her face as she tried to puzzle her way through. "What-?"

"My fault," Garrus admitted.

"Mine too," Joker threw in over the speakers.

"It was my plan," Miranda said. "You chose to join of course, but it was my plan originally. So my respon-"

"Excuse me!" Shepard raised her voice. "Let's assume not everyone knows what you're talking about and move on from there. Yes?"

Miranda flushed slightly. "My apologies commander."

Clasping her hands in front of her Miranda tapped one finger against her chin, thinking and then: "It pretty much started when I intercepted the initial inquiry from the admirals about the viability of terminating your life support."

Shepard sat up straighter. "Intercepted?"

"Well yes," Miranda said resting her check in the palm of one hand. "Old habits die hard, commander. True the alliance was quite forgiving; allowing me to oversee your recovery, having me use my intelligence skills for the unified races. Tracking down resources, coordinating repair efforts and so on."

She placed both palms flat on the table and leaned back. "But that doesn't mean I trusted them and I know they didn't trust me so of course I tapped what communications I could."

"Okay," Shepard replied and waved a hand in a 'go ahead' gesture.

"The second I got that information I started my plan," Miranda continued. "The first thing I did was contact EDI."

"EDI?" Shepard questioned.

"Yes commander," EDI said over the intercom. "Ms Lawson assumed that if there was any completely isolated and totally loyal source it would be myself."

"Hey!" Joker objected loudly.

"You tend to babble when you drink," EDI was heard saying to him in a conciliatory tone. "Also It would be difficult for anyone to eavesdrop on any communication with me and for me to not be aware. Ms Lawson also surmised that the rest of you might be under observation whereas with myself, that would prove largely useless. Finally she concluded that I would be able to access databanks and infiltrate servers with a far greater likelihood of success without being discovered."

EDI paused.

"And in every area she was correct. Impressive."

"Thank you EDI," Miranda replied quietly, not even an ounce of smugness detectable in her tone.

"You are welcome Ms Lawson," EDI replied.

Miranda stood up and walked around the table passing her hand over the center and her omnitool glowed in a single pulse. The holographic display came online and familiar images crystallized, hovering in mid-air where everyone could see them. Shepard heard Liara give a quiet inhale- she recognized the three-dimensional models as well; she had seen them not an hour ago in the main hall at the alliance HQ. Spinning in space were the same images of the new nanobots supposedly swarming through her bloodstream.

"Within hours of intercepting the communique I was given orders from alliance command to begin a thorough investigation into your implants, Shepard," Miranda said and again passed her hand through empty air. Again her omnitool pulsed and the images shifted slightly, beginning the animation sequence Shepard had seen earlier.

"The admirals wanted to know what they were, what they could do and how they were affecting you. They also wanted me to theorize possible benefits to military personal should the implants themselves prove benign," Miranda sat back down.

"When did all this begin?" Liara asked quietly; her tone clipped and harsh.

"More than thirteen months ago," Miranda replied just as quietly, her eyes looking into her lap.

"I see," Liara said and lay her palms flat on the table, took a deep breath and then another. The asari closed her eyes and continued breathing deeply; Shepard could smell ozone.

She leaned forward and ran her knuckles across Liara's cheek. Her asari's eyes flew open at the intimacy of the touch, she raised one hand as if to knock Shepard's touch aside then changed partway to lay her own fingers on Shepard's. If any of the others had any reactions or thoughts on this uncharacteristic public display of affection from Shepard they kept it to themselves.

A slow blink conveyed Liara's gratitude for the intervention, they parted; turning to Miranda, Liara asked, through not quite gritted teeth, "Why was I not told of any of this."

"This," Miranda said. A wave of her hand, a pulse of her omnitool and the air above the conference table was drowning in still images and looping footage of Liara. There were images of her at the hospital, cradling Shepard, images of her moving down the street, a short movie repeating over and over caught her laying a credit chit at the coffee shop in alliance HQ. There were other stills as well; Liara in an elevator, Liara gesturing frantically locked in conversation with a Salarian, Liara sitting on her sofa staring a picture of Shepard.

"Goddess," Liara swore.

"Someone needs a bullet to the brain," Garrus said stone faced.

Shepard's jaw ached and she realized she was grinding her teeth together.

"If I had told you," Miranda went on, waving her hand again replacing all the imagery with the older stills of the reaper nanomachines. "They might have realized it. You're good Liara but that kind of information might have triggered some sort of red flag and our enemies would have resorted to more drastic tactics."

The former operative rubbed her temples and said, "Once upon a time I would have."

Liara sat, lips pursed in thought.

Straightening in her seat she said, "Thank you, Miranda."

Miranda nodded, still rubbing at her temples, "Part of the job. I'm suddenly wishing I had another career."

"And the exfilatration?" Shepard prodded.

"Of course," Miranda continued, leaning back in her seat, hands in her lap- the cool professional once more. "There was absolutely no chance that I, or any other member of your former crew allow you to be-"

"Murdered?" Garrus threw in.

"Yes," Miranda agreed with a nod. "Murdered. I began to coordinate a plan to break you out of the hospital. EDI?"

"Per Ms Lawson's instructions I began amending personal orders," The AI's voice said through the intercom. "I had former members of the Normandy crew re-assigned back for ship duties. The Normandy was being repaired and overhauled once again for a return to active service. It did not take much effort to create convincing forgeries as the crew members themselves were best suited for the requirements at the job at hand."

"And the ex-Cerberus?" Shepard pressed. "How was that one pulled off?"

"You recognized them?" Miranda asked.

Shepard nodded.

"I had Garrus contact them."

"Garrus?" Shepard's attention turned to him.

The turian had his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced so his steady gaze passed over his knuckles. "The idea had been, as I was working for the turian government, any possible surveillance would be considered too high risk," he turned one hand palm up. "Possible scandals and all that. It was a risky gamble but it paid off. Miranda believed that these former Cerberus members, she vetted them personally, would jump at the chance to serve under you again. Especially after seeing how Donnelly and Daniels were treated."

"Were working?" Shepard asked.

"I doubt being part of a terrorist attack on the alliance HQ is going to do wonders for my career, Shepard," Garrus replied in a bored tone. Then he winked at her. "Totally worth it though. They served terrible coffee."

"They are going to portray us as traitors and terrorists," Miranda said.

"They already have," EDI replied. "The Extranet is quite active regarding the attack. To summarize Shepard has been accused of plotting a coup d'etat with former members of her crew. The Normandy has been declared a renegade vessel with all alliance ships, both systems alliance and council members, under orders to attack her on sight. Alliance HQ was heavily damaged and there are reports of fatalities."

"What?" Joker exploded. "Miranda used shaped charges. The blast wave was barely enough to knock out those windows!"

"Nevertheless Joker," EDI replied. "The official statement declares fifty-five soldiers perished in the attack.

All the blood drained from Shepard's face, "Fifty-five?" she croaked. She saw but did not feel Liara's hand grip her own. A gibbering howl was whirling around in the back of her mind, the edges of her vision started to cloud over. She could see everyone staring at her, their lips were moving but she heard nothing. A nausea began to roil up her throat. She had- no. She couldn't have- scattering- thoughts were cascading. Hot, cold, fear, disgust, loathing, hate, rage boiling, seething, choking all at the same time. One tiny detail blazing in her almost unseeing mind- Liara's grip so tight her blue skin was pale and yet Shepard didn't feel a thing.

Until the hypersonic wail practically blew her ear drums apart.

With a cry of pain Shepard, along with everyone else, clapped their hands to the their ears.

The noise cut off and through the ringing and the instant pounding of a new born headache Shepard heard Joker shouting, "EDI! What did you do!"

EDI, her voice sounding surprisingly grief-stricken and not at all her normal cool, clear tones, replied. "Jeff, I'm sorry! Shepard's implants- I felt them. They somehow broadcast a biofeedback wave that my on-board sensors detected and were able to read."

"What the hell are you talking about!" Joker demanded. Shepard groaned and pulled herself straight in her seat. She sought out Liara- her asari was lying on the floor, a dazed look on her face, blinking slowly. Lurching to her feet Shepard collapsed at her lover's side. "Liara!"

"I'm fine, Shepard," Liara whispers. "But please talk quietly."

"Commander?" EDI's voice sounded ashamed and...fearful?

"I'm here, EDI," Shepard said as quietly as she could, Liara rolled onto her side into a sitting position. Behind them both Miranda and Garrus were scrambling back into their seats. No one looked very happy.

"I apologize commander," the AI said. "I became aware- your implants- the nanomachines...I suddenly knew you were in danger of-"

"Uh..." Shepard couldn't believe she was saying this to an AI but- "Take it easy EDI. I trust you had your reasons."

"Yes commander," EDI's relief was audible. Another surprise. "You were suffering a seizure, commander. Neurological flaring in your cortex, disruptions to your cardiovascular systems and your neuro-chemical activity spiked alarmingly. I believe this was an emotional and physiological reaction, coupled with extreme exhaustion and stress, to the possibility that you are responsible for alliance military deaths."

Again Shepard felt a vice tighten around her stomach.

"You're not!" and EDI's volume again spiked through Shepard's head.

"How can you be so sure?" Liara said.

The displays above the table shimmered and were replaced by a three dimensional model of the room where Shepard and Liara had been hours before. There was a hole in one wall and on the far side of it, hovering, was a model of The Normandy. Small simple humanoids were scattered throughout the image, each one clearly labeled.

"This is the room based off of my own recordings of the conflict and data I mined from the security system," EDI explained. "The time is exactly point zero zero two seconds after Ms Lawson detonated the explosives. Please observe though note the playback is slowed down by a factor of ten."

Upon finishing her description the scene unfolded. The high table, on its dais directly in front of the explosion spun forward, launched across the room by the wave of kinetic energy. The simple figurines were sent sprawling and rolling a good four or five meters. A smaller table also was flipped but the two figures crouching on the floor were left unharmed.

"As is plainly visible, based on accurate assumptions of the weight and distance-" EDI began.

"Please summarize EDI," Shepard interrupted.

"Very well, commander," EDI replied. "Simply put the explosives did not have enough power to do lethal damage. Ms Lawson who was positioned very close to the explosion was, at worst, knocked off her feet only momentarily."

The figures were picking themselves off the floor and a new one, standing at the base of The Normandy appeared.

"To give yourself, Ms Lawson and Dr. T'Soni time to reach The Normandy Garrus positioned himself to intercept any reinforcements. He used only concussive rounds which, when used against armored opponents, are non-lethal, " EDI concluded. "There is no possibility that any of these actions could result in the deaths of fifty-five systems alliance personal."

Shepard then said what she knew everyone else had to be thinking, "That means either the fifty-five deaths are total lies or-" her face stretched into a grimace, "or they killed fifty-five men and women to cement the frame."

Garrus said. "Couldn't they just alter records of military casualties?"

EDI spoke up again, "There have not been that many deaths of enlisted personal in the local system since the end of The Reaper War. If records were altered it would require a variety of different times and places. Any official autopsies would reveal discrepancies."

"You said you were asked to begin research on Shepard's implants thirteen months ago?" Liara turned to Miranda.

"That's right," the former operative nodded. "And if I correctly anticipate where you're going with this then that suggests that this, for lack of a better word, conspiracy has been preparing for some time."

"Okay, I'm totally lost," Joker's voice cut in through the intercom. "But that's okay because I just fly ships and shoot things. Pew, pew!"

Liara glanced at Shepard, brow raised, asking permission to continue. Shepard nodded.

"To casually murder fifty-five people in such a short time would be difficult, Joker, " Liara explained. "If this ...conspiracy... has been this long in the making then it's possible the minds behind it have been preparing for this eventuality by not reporting certain deaths of military personal and now, with that having a use, revealing them to the public."

"Uhm..." Joker hummed. "That's pretty hard to swallow. They'd have to have known we were going to bust Shepard out."

"Or," Garrus added thoughtfully, "been covering every eventuality."

Shepard stood up and began walking around the table, rubbing her hands together. "EDI were the dead identified?"

"Negative, commander."

"To have all this prepared," Shepard continued, "they'd have to have falsified orders, ways of keeping anyone who served with these mysterious dead beforehand silenced- it's all too complicated. I'm thinking the deaths are a lie."

"Then how will they procure the bodies when the families demand them?" Miranda asked.

Liara swallowed, placing one hand over her heart as she realized a terrible possibility, "They'll procure them now."

Shepard slammed a hand flat on the table, "No! This is not how the systems alliance does things! Hackett would never allow it."

"Shepard," Liara said quietly, "Hackett was one of the admirals who originally voted for the termination of your life support."

Her breath rasping between her teeth Shepard swore and asked, "EDI when you scooped up all this data did you happen to get identification of all the military personal in the headquarters?"

"Yes commander," EDI confirmed.

"Any discrepancies?"

"I do not understand the request, commander."

"Compare the identities of service personal in alliance HQ at around eleven hundred hours with those at the time between eleven forty-five and twelve," Shepard demanded.

Liara shot her a look which Shepard ignored.

"I believe I have found what you were referring too, commander," EDI reported a split second later.

"Go on," Shepard replied.

"Between the two times you have stipulated standard time every single serviceman or woman in the alliance HQ has been replaced," EDI said.

Ignoring the sudden intense stares from everyone in the room Shepard grunted and muttered, "I knew it."

"Now I'm lost," Garrus said to no one.

"She- she said as much," Liara stammered, not taking her eyes off Shepard as her human moved back to her seat and slouched down into it.

"What did Shepard say?" Miranda demanded leaning forward in her seat.

Shepard said. "When Liara and I were coming back from meeting with you at the coffee shop. I knew that not a single person in the main hall and the first three floors that I could see were the same people I had seen when Liara and I first arrived."

"How the hell did you do that?" Garrus asked.

"Because," and Shepard slouched even lower, "even though I only saw them for a moment, I somehow could remember everyone who had been in that room down to the smallest detail and afterwards I didn't recognize anyone there. No one at all."

"That's impo-" Garrus got no further, Miranda stood up so fast her chair flipped over. She hammered at her omnitool and the images of the nano-tech she claimed were an example of Shepard's upgrades shimmered into existence over the table.

"Total recall," the woman breathed aloud. "You have total recall, don't you Shepard?"

Shepard said nothing.

"Was there anything else?" Miranda asked, when Shepard still didn't respond Miranda turned toward her, voice climbing in intensity. "Was there anything else?"

Liara was halfway out of her seat, mouth open when Shepard whispered, "Yes."

She sat up, leaned forward and rested her forehead on her palms, "I knew where the marines coming through the door were going to be. I figure somehow these...things...analyzed something or other, perhaps the average response time or maybe the sounds of their boots on the floor, bit of this, bit of that," she shrugged. "Either way I knew the split second when they were going to be through the door and which way they'd probably be facing. I knew where Garrus was, where you were Miranda, you too Liara. Some of that I saw- most of it was the only possible answer and I knew of it consciously I knew all this and the fastest, best way to get us out of there. Crystal clear," Shepard snapped her fingers. "Didn't even have to think about it."

She raised her eyes tiredly and stared at Miranda, "Did any of that come up in your theories?"

Miranda, her eyes a little wide, shook her head a bit.

"Any idea what it means?" Shepard pressed. A tiny nod answered her.

"And does it mean I'm even human anymore?" Shepard's voice dripped scorn.

"Okay, now you can shut up," Garrus' dry voice whip-cracked across the room.

Ignoring how everyone was now staring at him Garrus got up to stand over Shepard.

"Enough with the self-pity, Shepard." Garrus said. "Yeah, you're wasted, hell, I'm actually impressed that you haven't turned into a gibbering mad-woman. Betrayal, attempted murder, the day before that as far as you're concerned you're confronting an ancient, merciless killing machine with the entire fate of the galaxy on your shoulders and waking up to this. I get that, I really do," he knelt down to look her directly in the eyes and said, jabbing at her with one finger, "but don't pull this self-doubt shit on me. I could personally shove a coffee machine up your ass, turn it on and have you serving decaf out your nose and you'd still be more human than any other person I've met from your planet."

"Goodbye," Joker muttered over the intercom. "Good luck in your next incarnation."

For a split second the two old, beaten soldiers were staring at each other then Shepard snorted quietly, one corner of her mouth curving upwards, "Asshole," she said, shaking her head.

"And proud of it," Garrus replied getting back on his feet.

"I will kick your ass," Shepard promised.

"More than fair," Garrus sat back down, failing spectacularly to not look pleased with himself.

Miranda cleared her throat.

"Go ahead," Shepard sighed.

"What you've reported is consistent with what I theorized might be possible in terms of mental alterations to go along with the physical ones I reported earlier," she said. "I would recommend regular tests and scans to monitor any changes in the implants."

"How?" Shepard demanded. "The Normandy doesn't have that kind of equipment."

"Speaking of what The Normandy has," Joker's voice cut in. "But I should also mention that we're severely understocked. Despite EDI's efforts our baby wasn't expected to leave port anytime soon. We're okay for fuel but rations, weapons, heat sinks, both personal and ship based, are all really low."

"Not to mention we have to decide what we're going to do now," Liara added. "I do not even have a way to maintain my network."

"On the contrary Dr. T'Soni," EDI replied. "That much we were able to accomplish. I had your equipment returned to The Normandy. You will find it to be very similar to the operations theater you had during the war."

Liara blinked slowly, "That- that's good, EDI. Thank you."

"More than good," Shepard added. "You can use that to get us started on what we need to do."

"Which is?" Miranda asked.

"You really don't know?" Garrus said turning to face the other woman. "You have been paying attention to Shepard for years now, right?"

He held up one finger, "First-"

"We're going to find this new group threatening the alliance," Shepard finished.

Garrus ticked off another finger, "Second," he said.

Again Shepard interupted. "We end them."

Nodding Garrus raised his last finger, "And finally-" he said, voice expectant.

"Live damn happily ever after," Shepard concluded.

"I love my job," Garrus grinned.

"I'd like to add that I am very much in favor of that plan," Liara said quietly, almost holding back her smile.

"First we need supplies," Shepard said standing up. "Joker, once we've dumped the charge, set course for Omega. We're going to need some favors. Miranda?"

"Yes, commander?"

"Please have the crew meet in the mess hall, I'd like to address them personally."

Miranda nodded, "Of course."

"Good," Shepard moved to stand behind Liara's seat, embracing her asari. "Dismissed."


	7. Blue: Cerulean: Six

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue: Cerulean: Six

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival on the third deck of the Normandy. Shepard and Liara stepped out. 

“Okay,” Shepard voiced her thoughts, “here we go.”

“Calm,” Liara coached. “Do what you've always done.”

“Run away?”

Liara smiled, not allowing the slight tremor of pain the words evoked be seen, “You've never run away from anything in your life.”

“Then I'm overdue,” Shepard said lightly.

Liara placed a gentle hand on her human's shoulder, “It will get better,” she said.

“Promise?”

“Yes,” the asari replied. “I do.”

“Commander on deck,” the man in uniform bellowed; instantly the whispered conversations throughout the mess hall were silenced. As one, every man and woman within turned to face the front of the room. The collective sound of hundreds of boots clicking together punctuated the sudden silence that followed. 

Into the expectant space strode Shepard with Liara close behind her, Shepard forced herself to take long, powerful strides, keeping her eyes up and her shoulders straight. Through conscious effort she made herself look like she knew what she was doing; her asari stepped off to the side and also came to a position of attention. After a few paces Shepard looked at her crew; just over a hundred men and women. All wearing the alliance blues, even those who strictly speaking were not alliance. Her crew, who had cast aside career, family, friends and loved ones to come to her aid and she didn't know what to tell them. 

 

“At ease,” Shepard said and as one everyone settled into parade rest, feet spread, hands behind their backs.

“First you should all know that the system alliance has declared us all traitors,” no one blinked, “we've been accused of a terrorist attack on the headquarters in Japan that resulted in the deaths of fifty-five servicemen and women.”

That got a reaction, not much of one but a few people stirred, shifting their weight but no voices of outcry arose. 

Shepard continued, “We all know that's a crock. EDI has confirmed that there were no deaths which makes the implications,” she paused and grimaced, “unpleasant.” 

“As of now we're on our own. According to the systems alliance we're all guilty of treason and are probably going to send everything they have after us,” she paused and forced herself to make a wry smile. “I wish them luck.”

There were a few rumbles of approval. 

“But there's another problem as well, a new threat is out there,” Shepard continued. “Perhaps some of you have heard but new group, an unknown faction, has been attacking members of the alliance, all member races have been targeted and whoever these hostiles are they have advanced technology and that's is what's scaring the hell out of our former illustrious leaders. People are dying and maybe the systems alliance has forgotten what it was supposed to stand for but I haven't so one of the things I'm going to do is find them and stop them,” Shepard again forced herself to smile. “I suddenly have lots of free time.”

 

Shepard started pacing back and forth in front of the assembled crew, “So that's how it is boys and girls. We're apparently traitors, the entire mights of the galaxy is hunting for us and I'm going to go pick a fight with a completely unknown enemy that has our own military terrified. The one that wants to kill us at the orders of a leadership that wanted to kill me,” she turned to face the men and women in front of her, “I for one do not intend to take this lying down. Something has gone very wrong with our home and I plan on finding out what it is and killing it.”

A few of the crew seemed to stand a bit straighter at her words. 

Shepard drew herself upright. “And if the absolute worst has come to pass, if somehow, when no one was looking our system alliance has become some...thing- an organization that has turned its back on the principles that it was founded upon then I'll kill that as well.”

She paused, closed her eyes and counted to three in her head, savoring those few, few moments of black and quiet peace. Then she opened her eyes once more and said, “As it stands now we have been betrayed somehow and if that is what the systems alliance is I shall not be a part of it any more!” 

Shepard reached up grabbed an edge then with a savage yank tore the systems alliance insignia from her uniform and flung it on the floor.

There was a collective intake of breath from her crew; some were staring at the symbol where it had landed, others glanced at the those standing next to them, still more did not move at all but stared straight ahead- their expressions unreadable.

From one side of the room Shepard heard Joker muttered, “Shit, now I'm going to have to buy a new cap.”

Shepard could feel her decision, her choice that was not her choice because she had never had one to begin with. Events beyond her control had forced this upon her; it had been this or death- again. Her head felt heavy; a sodden, wet grey lead weight pressed on her heart because it was happening again. It was always happening over and again and again and it never let her go. Her words stuck and like everything else that got in her way she forced herself to drive right over it. 

“We're on our own,” she pressed on. “This is no longer a Systems Alliance vessel. I am not a systems alliance officer and none of us are members of the system alliance. I have no authority over any of you. So... that means we have to decide on how this is going to work if there is going to be a we at all. I know what I'm going to be doing; I already told you all as much but I cannot order you or even ask you to go with me because,” Shepard paused and took a deep breath, “I am not your commander.”

At this a shudder passed through the crowd. She could see a few people whispering to each other. She raised her voice.

 

“The most important thing though...” Shepard stopped. It all felt so hollow. It wasn't enough but it was all she had, “...the most important thing though, something that must be said is this: Thank you. For saving me. You didn't have too, part of me even thinks all of you are crazy but I just want to say that your sacrifice- Okay who's laughing?”

And there was laughter. A rich, warm feminine chuckle was coming from somewhere in the crowd. The crew in the front peered over their shoulders or turned around trying to see who would dare be amused in the face of Shepard. The lines parted and a short woman stepped into view. Her skin was a rich, healthy chocolate color; hair black hair hung just slightly longer than Shepard herself remembered it being. Large dark eyes swam with expression and emotion. She was trying to stifle her laughter by pressing the back of one hand over her mouth and failing at it badly. As she stepped forward stumbling slightly; she was having trouble staying upright having difficulty muffling herself.

The woman staggered forward, her other hand reached up and clung to Shepard for support as she fought to bring her laughter under control.

“Traynor?” Shepard stared down at the smaller woman.

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Samantha Traynor gasped between giggle fits. “It's just so funny!”

Liara stepped forward, frowning, “I hardly see what's so humorous about the situation, specialist.” 

Appearing to have her breathing under control but still clinging to Shepard, Traynor held up her free hand, “No, no. You're right. This is serious I understand that, really.”

Shifting her weight slightly, Shepard stepped back out of Traynor's grasp. She folded her arms across her chest, waiting.

 

The specialist straightened, regaining some semblance of composure. “Yeah. Well....,” she said. “But...” her voice drifted off and she stared up at Shepard. “You...you're thanking us?”

Shepard cocked her head to one side, puzzled, “Yes.”

Traynor's smile widened. “You're thanking us?” she repeated. “You, Commander Shepard. The one woman in the entire galaxy who shouldered the burden of a threat millions of years old, who believed and fought and bled for every thinking being in all of space, the woman who put herself right in the path of the end of everything for over five years while at the same time going up against the worst humanity had to offer and never once asked for anything in return save for support which was denied so many times, you, who never ever gave up on any of us when most of us were never prepared to even dare to hope- you are thanking us?”

Traynor stepped forward suddenly and gently cupped Shepard's face in her hands, “You don't owe us a god damned thing, commander,” she said. “Every second we have, every bit of life that everyone, every where has is because of you. Leaders have been described as having followers ready to follow them through hell. I've already followed you through hell, ma'am and come out the other side. I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what the admirals say, I don't care what even you say.”

Releasing Shepard the younger woman snapped a perfect, crisp salute, “You are my commander and I will follow you anywhere you go.”

And as one every other member of The Normandy crew, her crew, snapped to full attention. 

Shepard stared around her, tiny impulses to scream at them, to tell them to go home, have the life that some twisted aspect of reality was denying her, do all the things that she had fought so hard to save, Another part from someplace deep and quiet woke back up and she felt it unfolding inside her, releasing a tension that she didn't even know she had been holding onto. Her crew, her life. 

It was enough.

Shepard's knees shook, she didn't falter. She felt her lips pull back in a full, heartfelt smile that surprised her, “I'd say thank you,” she said to the room, “but apparently that's not appropriate. How about instead I- here we go again.”

And with a roar the crew responded; fists pumped the air, others began tearing off their own system alliance symbols of rank or station. Some of them took turns assisting each other. Someone grabbed Joker's cap and threw it across the room. 

“That's alright,” Joker said watching his own personal icon sail away. “I never really liked the color.”

Liara approached Shepard and Traynor who was still at attention, “I apologize Specialist,” the asari said. “I did-”

And she was cut off by Traynor launching herself at her in a fierce hug, “You got her back!” the young woman cried joyfully. “Damn if you didn't get her back, I'm so happy for you!”

Shooting a pleading look shot at Shepard who only shrugged in response, Liara tentatively returned the embrace.

”You may not think you deserve it,” she said quietly, “but thank you for that Samantha.”

“Oh!” The specialist said suddenly stepping back. “That was far too forward- I mean- that...” she sighed. “You're welcome, Liara. Chess is so much easier.”

She turned to face Shepard and said in a much more formal tone, “Glad to have you back, commander.”

Shepard smiled again, saluted the specialist and said, “Good to be back,” and to her surprise, she meant it. 

“Crew dismissed,” The commander shouted over the noise and the gathering split up. Some of the crew split off to return to their duty stations while others drifted off in the direction of the elevator or lounges. A small handful grabbed some chairs in the mess hall intent on their conversations. Shepard overheard a few snatches of words here and there; concerns about resources, missions specifics, duty rosters and of course complaints. And it was all very much alive. Confidence, pride and a sense of rightness pervaded the actions of her crew. 

Broken snatches of conversation floated through the mess hall. Some she was able to pick out. 

“...nah, a renegade's life ain't that hard,” she could hear Joker saying. “I've done it already myself. Dropped the alliance like a hot potato after the first Normandy was destroyed. Joined Cerberus, not to thrilled with the group themselves but...”

“Yes Jeff,” EDI said. “But even under Cerberus you still received a steady paycheck. That is no longer the case.”

Shepard just picked out Joker's “Oh shit!” before the group moved out of earshot.

She turned to leave, eyes panning across the room to pick out Liara when from behind her a familiar drawl said, “Excuse me, commander?”

She turned back to face an older man. Weathered skin crinkled in smile lines around the eyes and the corner of his mouth. Weathered skin and thick callouses across the knuckles of both hands indicated a lifetime of work, struggle and the grey hairs in combination demonstrated enough intelligence to get through all those years without being too stupid. Though older in appearance to the rest of the crew he somehow still fit in- an old soldier who isn't quite ready to quit. 

“Rupert?” Shepard gaped slightly. 

“Thas' right, ma'am,” the old chef drawled, his accent still as strong as ever. “Just wanted to reintroduce myself. Lot happened since The Omega Relay. Saved my bacon' there.”

“A reintroduction is hardly necessary, Rupert,” Shepard replied shaking the man's hand. “I can't tell you how much I missed your cooking after The Normandy returned to Earth before the war.”

“Yeah,” the older man scratched the back of his head. “But I couldn't stay; the systems alliance wouldn'ta been thrilled to see me after how we parted ways a while back. An what with me hookin' up with Cerberus wouldn't done me any favors either.”

Shepard smacked him roughly on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie. “We were all fooled. Even me, and I had prior experience with Cerberus that should have clued me in. It's not your-”

“Beggin' your pardon ma'am, but yer' dead wrong. I made the call so it was my fault I helped them bunch of murderous...aww... t'hell with it,” he sighed, glanced around the room and continued. “The point bein' is that's all in the past now'. When that young filly Mz Lawson called-”

“Filly?” Miranda Lawson asked, entering into the conversation.

“I ain't apologizin' for my idioms,” the older man said stubbornly. “It's a compliment from my youth. Now, as I was sayin' when Mz Lawson gave me a call I hustled right on up to join, someone has to keep you folk well fed.”

“Provided you have the right supplies,” Shepard added.

“Ain't that the truth,” Rupert sighed scratching the back of his head. “As it stands our departure was a mite bit hasty and we weren’t exactly bustin' at the seams in terms of goods and the like. Now we're goin' to have to restock soon; currently we're havin' to resort to spam in a can and I'm guessin that in about a week or so the crew will be down to those ration brick doo-dads some madman with money on his mind and no sense of actual taste figured would be a good idea.”

“They are a bit hard to swallow,” Shepard agreed thinking back on her own experiences with battfield rations.

“That's more than a bit of an understanment ma'am; they'd make fine eatin' if we were dead first.”

Shepard couldn't help but nod in agreement. 

“That issues has been discusses already Sergeant Gardner,” Miranda interjected smoothly. “Current plans are to purchase supplies on our arrival at Omega.”

“Omega?” the mess sergeant snorted disdainfully. “Might be better off just bringin' in all the rats from that station on board. I'm bettin' they'd be a bit healthier than any supplies we might get from that galactic asshole.”

“No chance of that,” Shepard replied. “The vorcha ate them.”

“Point,” Rupert agreed nodding sadly. “Well, just wanted to tell ya' how I felt bein' back on the Normandy, Ma'am.”

“So should I thank you?” Shepard said, making sure she didn't smile.

“Naw,” the older man shook his head, “that even younger' filly had said it properly: You're owed, ma'am. Owed in the worst way and I say the universe is doin' a piss poor job of shoulderin' its due. I figure I can even that out a bit. In my own way.”

“Good to have you back than, sarge,” Shepard snapped off a salute which the chef returned muttering as he went, “Back to work.”

“Ma'am?” Another voice said.

Turning Shepard held offered her hand to someone else she knew from more recent times, “Lieutenant Gregory Adams, can't say I'm surprised.”

“Thought you'd remember me telling you about my regrets,” the former engineer from the SR1 replied, accepting the handshake.

“Donnelly and Daniels as well?” the commander asked. 

“Aye ma'am, they're all here.”

And so it went. Former crew members that she hadn't seen since the original Normandy had gone down, to former members of the now defunct Cerberus; all of them greeted their commander warmly. Some she remembered from experiences past, others she knew as familiar faces in the CIC or engineering but had never had actually spoken too much. Even the two marines who had stood guard in the doorway between the war room and the CIC had come back. 

“I never understood why they bothered,” Shepard told the two women who she had passed multiple times every day during the war, even overhearing some of their conversations but had not joined in. 

“Neither did we,” said the first marine who Shepard remembered standing by the door.

“But orders were orders,” added the second with a shrug. She had been the one manning the scanner.

“It was boring,” the first one continued. “But at least my partner and I had lots of interesting conversations.”

Shepard's eyebrows shot up, “Partner?”

The second women nodded, slipped a hand around the waist of the other woman and pulled her close. “Something good came out of those days watching a door.”

Shepard pursed her lips, nodding, “Apparently. Well, we don't listen to those orders now. I want you two to assist Ms. Lawson with onboard security. Tell her what you need to get the job done and we'll pick that up as well on Omega.”

“So...instead of watching a door we watch some screens?” the marine who had scanned Shepard more times than the commander had looked in a mirror.

“Not exactly,” Shepard went on. “You'll keep an eye on the ship, manage any guest we have on board, maintain control of small-arms and the arsenal and also be coordinating with EDI regarding cyber-security and make sure anything that comes through requisitions is clean as well. That should take some of the pressure off those departments.” Shepard broke off.

The two marines saluted, “Aye, aye ma'am” they said in unison.

Liara's fingers slid between Shepard's own and she returned the gesture with a squeeze. 

“You're done here,” Liara leaned forward and whispered; Shepard could imagine those deep, blue lips almost touching her ear. 

“Almost,” she said quietly back. “There are just a few more thing that-”

“You're. Done. Here.” And each word was punctuated with hot breath that slid over the back of Shepard's neck. She curled her toes in her boots.

“Commander.” EDI's voice cut through the noise from the PA system. 

“Shit,” Shepard muttered. “Report EDI.”

“We're receiving a communications over the quantum entanglement communicator.”

“What? Who's on the other end.”

“They have not identified themselves,” EDI replied.

“I'm on my way,” Shepard replied moving toward the elevator. 

“Are you sure that's wise?” Liara asked. “What if the systems alliance has found us?”

“Even if that were the case, Doctor. T'Soni, it is impossible to track a signal through a QEC. That is one of the reasons The Illusive Man used it so extensively,” EDI explained. 

“We won't know standing here talking about it,” Shepard exclaimed. “I'll be right there, EDI.”

Shepard fingers suddenly ached under the increased pressure coming from Liara's now much firmer grip, she glanced over at her asari to see the other woman glaring at her fiercely, “We will be right there,” the asari said firmly.

The two of them entered the QEC through the war room. Whatever else had happened during Shepard's nearly two years in a coma at least The Normandy's refit had been completed. Where there had been exposed paneling and tubing snaking around ever corner and hanging from the ceiling in great loops now there were a pristine, finished near work of art. Overhead lighting reflected off rounded, smooth contours of the circular room. Behind the fully restored master-panel, itself an onyx black with holographic controls, the QEC itself hummed, a counter rhythm to the near silent power of the ships engines just hovering on the edge of hearing. 

Shepard didn't spare a glance at the changes since her last time in this place. The room where she had held her final mission briefing with Anderson before landing on earth; the final battle with the Reapers, hell itself. A slight tremor ran through her, something was edging itself over the precipice of her memory and she mentally shrugged herself; driving back a sense of nausea. 

“All right EDI,” she said out loud. “Accept the broadcast.”

A sound of rushing water filled the room as the holograph projectors whirled into life. Motes of light spun into life over the receiving end of the QEC, some spiraling about, others appearing stretched, like thousands of tiny meteorites blazing in the same direction at the same time, only backwards. Shepard tapped two fingers on the railing impatiently. The cloud of illumination coalesced first into a humanoid shape and, as more, but smaller motes sprung into existence, the shape grew in detail, complexity and finer resolution until the image was complete. 

Shepard recognized the holographic image that had sprung into life in front of her; closing her eyes she let her head fall forward groaning, “Oh God, not you.”

“It is good to see you again as well Commander Shepard,” replied Councilor Tevos. She was tall for an asari. Her image held itself upright, with no wasted movements, not a raised eye ridge, or casual hand gesture. Her fingers hung in mid-air, presumably the control panel of her own QEC device. She did not look directly at either Liara or Shepard but instead stared straight at nothing directly in front of her, slightly over their heads. 

“I think I'll wait outside,” Liara said calmly to no one in particular; she spoke very calmly but there was the same intensity as of someone who was trying to get out of the blast radius of a particularity large explosive. 

The other asari turned slightly to regard the younger member of her species, “Doctor T'Soni, it pleases me to see that you are well. I would ask you to remain for what I have to say involves you both.”

“Hear we go,” Shepard said. “Come to find if what you've heard is true? That I've suddenly gone bad guy? What are they saying exactly? Maybe I'm suffering from a psychotic break or...oh that'd be good. Yes, long term retroactive indoctrination. How's that?” 

Shepard's grin was nothing pleasant, far too many teeth. 

“Actually,” she continued, “I kind of like that one. I just made it up. What do you think, councilor? No, wait. I don't care. So, what's this about then? I'm sure you're all fired up at the idea of getting to hunt me down though I have to say,” and at this Shepard bared her teeth again, “this is a hell of a lot of effort for an 'I told you so'.”

The other asari smiled a small, sad little thing. Her head dipped suddenly and one hand came up to brush at nothing across her eyes. “Councilor,” she said. “No one has called me that in quite some time.”

Shepard pulled back a bit, “You've lost your position?”

Tevos shook her head slightly, “Not...exactly. With the loss of the citadel there was no real reason to maintain the council as it had been established. When a new body of representatives was chosen for the cementing of this new alliance the matron mothers made it very clear that I was not welcome to participate. So while I am still a councilor there is nothing to be a councilor of.”

Shepard snorted disdainfully but said nothing, turning her back on the asari as if to walk away.

“The price of my hubris was my homeworld, Shepard,” Tevos said sharply, the desperation in her voice was clearly audible. “We- I should have listened.”

Shepard paused and turned back around, and she said very clearly, very slowly drawing an edge along each word like a serrated blade slid across the gum-line, “A. Bit. Late. For. That. Councilor.”

Tevso flinched at each punctuated word, “Believe me, commander I am all too aware.”

“You've addressed Shepard as 'commander,” Liara said stepping forward. “Does that mean you still have not received word that she has been stripped of her commission?”

“I was foolish, Doctor T'Soni and did not heed the commander twice over and Thessia burned. I saw first hand how she fought and what she did to protect and preserve the galaxy from The Reapers. I will not be so foolish as to blindly believe what I am told regarding the commander again.”

Shepard slowly clapped her hands, staring at the holographic asari with a flat glare, “Well, that means we can be friends then.” 

“Commander...I...”

“No.” Shepard cut off the other woman.

“No,” she repeated, her tone cool, polite and precise. “Those were very pretty words, Councilor; where were they to assist me when I needed them? Always demanding we did not have enough proof when your entire damn species had been sitting on it for over a millennium. In light of all that I'm afraid that whatever assistance you require, you're not going to be getting it from me,” she shrugged helplessly. “Sorry.”

Liara's surprised stare was a weight, an itch, right between Shepard’s shoulder blades. Shepard understood it; she'd prided herself on her willingness to help others, even those she didn't really like. Her crew had come to her rescue probably for that very reason- because of her commitment to them. And now here she was out and out rejecting another without knowing the situation. Maybe someone was in trouble. People might be dying. Or even some huge threat was looming on the horizon and it was thought Shepard was their only hope.

And she told them no.

She liked the feeling.

It was good.

“You speak with great justification,” Tevos said slowly. “And it is not undeserved but you do not realize my intention. I have been sent by the matriarchs, not to ask for assistance but instead to offer it.”

Shepard raised one eyebrow, “Meaning?”

“Meaning that the whole of asari space is open to you, that at your word we will reject the system alliances request for assistance in your arrest. We will offer you safe haven and place to rest and replenish yourself. The asari government would even provide you and your shipmates a world of your own. Or your own choosing. You could remake your lives here, protected and valued by us. Build homes, raise families, perhaps even start your own human colony inside our boarders. On the other hand should you require it you would be free to make what use of our armed forces you could in your efforts to prove your innocence so as to one day return to earth.”

 

Shepard strode forward, placing both hands on the curving bannister separating her from the hologram and leaned forward. “You believe I'm innocent?”

Now it was Tevos' turn to smile grimly, “Oh yes,” she said fervently. “I told you I've learned from my hubris. I have centuries left to try and correct my mistake, Shepard. In the doing so I will probably make many more but one mistake I shall never repeat is doubting your word.”

“If what the systems alliance is telling you is true that would be a mistake,” Shepard replied. 

“Perhaps,” the asari amended. “But I do not believe so now. What answer shall I take back to the matriarchs commander? Will you accept our offer?”

“Gimmie a sec,” she mumbled, turning to Liara she asked quietly, “What do you think?”

“I have no idea,” Liara spreading her hands. “This is quite sudden.”

“Come on!” Shepard said. “This is your bed and breakfast, you've got this data analysis stuff down to a science. You must have some idea of what's been going on in asari space.”

Liara rolled her eyes, “Skipping right past the obtuseness of your choice in idioms and the fact that data analysis is an actual science then I suppose the first thing to say is my information is rudimentary at best. Thessia has been the prime hub for all supplies to and from asari space. True I did use my network to facilitate the distribution of supplies, personal and so on but after they reach the homeworld I lost track of them. I know that several colonies have been restarted while many others have been abandoned. I can tell you what percentage of the asari people died in the war, how much of our military strength has been restored, but the fine details? I'm sorry Shepard. My information has been more focused on the political maneuvering of the alliance races, making sure goods are distributed as evenly as possible and, well, you.”

Shepard gave her a quick grin, “Well, let's think about this. As far as I know there are far reaches of asari space that few, if any, humans have seen.”

“True.”

“The resources would be substantial. Maybe even enough to, as she said,” Shepard nodded in the direction of the hologram, “prove our innocence.”

“They would be very helpful is pursuing the threat of the forces attacking the rest of the alliance as well,” Liara added.

“Wouldn't have to do that. We could just vanish,” Shepard said with a shrug. “What was it you said? It'd be easy for a ship this small to get lost.”

Liara took both of Shepard's hands, peering up at the woman through her lashes, “To find some place very far away, where you could spend the rest of your life in peace,” she leaned forward and kissed her human, “and happiness.”

Liara pulled Shepard into an embrace, reveling in the feeling of those strong, pale, healthy and on so alive arms holding her. She rested her chin on one of Shepard's shoulders and murmured into the commander's ear, “But we couldn't have done it then....”

Shepard pulled back and leaned in for a kiss of her own. Breaking off after a moment she replied, “And we can't now, can we?”

“No,” Liara whispered, almost sadly. “We can't.”

Shepard let go of her asari, mentally arguing her fingers stubborn refusal to comply; she turned to face the councilor, “Thank you, councilor,” Shepard began. “but it wouldn't be a good idea.”

Teves nodded slowly, as if that was the answer she had been expecting, “May I have your reasons to share with the matriarchs?”

“You've seen those recording of whatever these new bad guys are?” Shepard asked. “Well, I have this idea that they're trying to break the alliance apart. The rest of the galaxy probably thinks of me as a traitor, or a lot of people do and the governments will do what they need to to keep the people happy. If somehow your peoples' complicity was discovered...best case...the asari would be kicked out of the alliance. That'd mean you'd be deprived of a lot of assistance in reconstruction and so on. Worst case, your people might be accused of being behind my actions and attacked. That would probably lead to some more wars breaking out and the bad guys have won. Accepting your offer would play right into their hands.”

Tevos look away, she appeared unable to look Shepard in the eye and she was smiling slightly. “You raise points that did not escape us, commander,” she said. “But it was decided that the offer must be made nonetheless. In recompense.”

“Goddess,” Liara breathed. 

“I didn't stop The Reapers just so your people got themselves killed for my sake,” Shepard snapped.

“Are you sure, commander?” Tevos pressed, raising her head to stare at the human.

Shepard crossed her arms and said nothing.

“I have seen that before,” Tevos said, answering her own question. “I recognize it for what it means now. I will give your answer to my government. They did anticipate it of course.”

“I'm betting that's the only way some of your mothers were willing to vote for the idea, they knew I'd say no,” Shepard replied with a smirk.

“You would not be wrong, commander, but having anticipated that answer another offer was prepared. This one I urge you to accept.”

Shepard, arms till folded, canted her head slightly, her curiosity evident, “That being?”

Tevos's hands reached down to the desk not in her image and vanished behind an edge. A moment later she appeared to be holding a data-tablet; her fingers brushed a few keys.

“We are receiving a data stream” EDI's voice reported. “Shall I display the contents?”

“Please,” Shepard answered.

A holographic image of a world appeared spinning next to the councilor's own hologram. The world boasted large oceans, and slightly smaller landmasses evenly distributed across the surface. Through the cloud cover, themselves large swirling pattern of white, Shepard could see mountains, valleys, a stretch of desert here and there but the predominant color of this unknown world was the sharp contrast between the bulk of the land being a rich, emerald green and the oceans a dark, deep blue.

“This,” Tevos began, indicating the world with a sweeping gesture, “is a small world, a garden world, completely unknown to anyone outside asari space.”

“Goddess take you!” Shepard jumped slightly at Liara's sudden burst of anger. She stared as her asari strode in front of her, jabbing at the councilor with one finger while nearly snarling, “It is bad enough that the mothers kept the existence of the Prothean beacon from the rest of the galactic community, from Shepard, but now to conceal the fact of a garden world?”

“Two points in my defense,” Tevos replied calmly. “First, I was unaware myself of it until I was briefed a few hours ago. Second it's more of a garden moon. Scarcely bigger than the moons around Thessia; our astronomers believe it once actually did orbit around another world when some force pulled it free where it drifted through before being captured by the star it currently orbits. While it does contain a breathable atmosphere and abundant plant and animal life the lack of size will prohibit true genetic diversity. It could only really be used for a small colony, or military outpost but that is besides the point.”

She passed her hand along the globe and the planet spun quickly, then she poked a part of the planet's surface and the camera zoomed in to focus on what appeared to be a large building complex. The scale was difficult to tell but one this Shepard knew was that it was a military installation. A large central building was surrounded by a string of smaller once. Based on positions alone Shepard had a good idea which one was troop barracks, where the armory might be and the vehicle pool. The hangers were obvious. It was the central building, larger than any other by several orders of magnitude that was the puzzle. Far too large to be a factory or laboratory and that much storage space was just a impractical. 

“This military outpost,” and Tevos did appear a bit pleased with herself at this, “remained undetected for the duration of the war.”

Shepard couldn't help but be a little impressed. The Reapers intelligence gathering abilities had been almost preternatural. With their ability to indoctrinate any sentient creature they had found every secret base, military program, strike group or weapon cache anywhere- usually at the with devastating timing. 

“The central building is a subterranean naval shipyard,” Tevos went on. “Capable of constructing any military space-vessels ranging from corvettes to ships-of-the-line,” she paused. “Or that was the idea. It was under construction, nearly finished actually, when the Reapers attacked. Of course in an effort to maintain secrecy all supply runs were canceled and it languished unfinished, of benefit to no one. In the interim resources have been stretched so thin that very little has been available for construction. We barely have enough functioning installations to maintain our current fleet, much less begin rebuilding.”

“Okay,” Shepard said slowly. “And what exactly am is being offered?”

Tevos brushed one hand across her eyes, “I said resources were stretched, commander, not non-existent. In the time since the war's ending construction has reached a point where serving ships can receive maintenance. We are offering you that service. I imagine you'd like to have the issue of your ships IFF Transponder dealt with as well.”

Shepard glanced at Liara, “How did she....?”

Liara answered, “I imagine they received reports on our manner of breaking the systems alliance blockage at the Sol relay. From that and a tactical analysis it would be fairly simple to make some deductions.”

Tevos nodded in approval, “Astute as always, Doctor. We have something to offer in regards to that as well.”

“Cards on the table please,” Shepard impatiently snapped. 

Tevos glanced at her datapad, and, like someone reading off a shopping list, said, “The matriarchs are offering to refurbish your ship, The Normandy. You will be provided with armaments, supplies, medicines, foodstuffs and data. We will upload the latest star-charts and navigation maps to all our territories and what we know of other areas of the galaxy. Your current weapons and defenses, with your permission, will be upgraded if there is any room for improvement. Finally The Normandy's IFF will be upgraded with chameleon circuitry.”

Shepard said out loud, “What's that EDI?”

The blue orb, EDI's holographic icon, when her android body was not present, popped into view, “The systems alliance have reports regarding this. Mostly rumors but the belief is that any ship equipped with such technology would be capable of broadcasting both the radar silhouette and IFF of any ship, of any species in its databanks.”

“Correct,” Tevos added, a slow smile of the 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' variety, spread across her features. “And we know of a great many ships, commander.”

Liara gripped Shepard's upper arm, “Shepard, such a device would be incredibly beneficial to The Normandy.”

“No kidding,” Shepard agreed, staring at the now quiet councilor. “Fits the idea of this ship perfectly. Even better than hiding in shadows-”

“Hiding in plain sight,” Liara finished.

“All right,” Shepard said, locking eyes with the other asari. “We'll take your offer, Tevos. Send the coordinates.”

If the asari matriarch was offended by the use of her name and not her title, it didn't show. She bowed her head in acknowledgment.

“One last thing,” Shepard called. “Can I make a request?”

“Of course, commander. What is it?”

Shepard grinned, brought up her omnitool and sent Tevos a burst transmission. The asari took a moment to examine what she had received and nodded to herself, “It will be ready by the time of your arrival.”

“Then we're done,” Shepard said turning to leave.

“There is one other matter,” Tevos said.

“That being?” Shepard turned back around.

“Doctor T'Soni?” Tevso shifted her attention to Liara. “I also bear a message for you from the matriarchs.”

Shepard moved slightly aside allowing Liara to step directly in front of the holographic image. 

“Very well,” her asari said. “What is the message.”

Closing her eyes appearing to collect herself Tevos straightened to her full height, clasped her hands together as if in prayer and opened her mouth.

At first Shepard didn't hear anything, then she could just barely make out a high, pure note. Not exactly audible but more as a pressing awareness of non quite silence; pure absence of sound save for one note...and then it grew. The note swept down, a tone rushing around and through her. Impossibly, she could make out other voices raised in song; deep, heavy; in total contrast to the higher tone...no...now it was several notes, cascading and flowing like a river of music. The deep bass of the contrast: the bedrock of the song; the higher vocals rippling along their path. Shepard realized she was gritting her teeth only as an afterthought. All the while Tevos stood ramrod straight, her mouth open, her lips unmoving.  
The music swelled, pushed and Shepard knew there was something...moving...meanings shifting; things changing. The edges of her vision blurred or was the room itself shaking? It was impossible to tell. The chorus echoed and re-choed, doubling upon itself, an onrushing wave that built and heightened in power, ready to come crashing down; a literal tsunami of melody.

She clapped her hands over her ears, willing herself not to scream.

And like that it was over.

Shepard gasped, a swimmer almost drowned, coming up for air. She had just enough awareness to see Liara gazing dumbfounded at the asari councilor. Her jaw hung open in what Shepard could not tell. Fear? Wonder? Something else?

“I....” Liara swallowed, one hand over her heart. “Yes, of course. I understand.”

“Then good day to you both,” Tevos said calmly and her image winked out.

“Who...?” Shepard gasped. “What...?”

Liara said nothing, staring at Shepard, her expression unreadable.

“Liara!” Shepard snarled. She pointed savagely where Tevos' image had been a moment before. “What the hell did she do?”

Liara brought a hand up ran her hand over her throat, a gesture Shepard had come to know meant her asari was very, very nervous. 

“What exactly did you experience, Shepard?”

Shepard's bark of sarcastic laughter made Liara flinch a bit. “What did I experience? How about a one woman choir with a bass that would make seasoned choir singers pant in envy? How about the sensation of my head about to blow clear off my shoulders while it also appeared the room was shaking itself apart!”

As she had spoke Liara's expression changed to one of wonder. Her eyes lit up, a slow beautiful smile spreading across her face like dawn over a calm ocean. Reaching out she brushed the fingertips of one hand over Shepard's cheek, “You will always amaze me, Shepard,” she breathed.

Unconsciously Shepard copied the gesture, “Thanks? But...” she took a moment, Liara's touched moved along her jaw and she drank it in. “Still needing an answer, Liara,” she mumbled.

Liara lowered her hand, “Of course.” 

She hooked an arm through Shepard's, “I'll explain on the way.”

“Where we going?” Shepard asked, allowing herself to be lead out of QEC.

“I need a stiff drink,” Liara answered. “You will too.”

Moments later they were in the elevator ascending to 'The Crows' Nest'. The nickname for the captain's cabin on the top of the ship. 

“What you heard,” Liara began, “was an ancient form of asari language. It is called...well the best approximation would be 'The Words of Shifting Oceans'”

She stopped, chuckling to herself at some private joke. “Language is not quite the proper word. My people's culture is thousands and thousand of years old but the actual spoken language is a bit younger. In fact it did not develop fully until after proof was found that we were not alone in the universe. Note this did happen fairly early in our history comparatively to the rest of current galactic civilizations. Prothean artifacts for example.”

“Wait, how on earth did your people develop a civilization before a spoken language?” Shepard asked. 

“Not actually on earth, Liara smirked at Shepard's scowl. “Well your idioms are confusing.”

“That one isn't,” Shepard grumped. “And stop making fun of us primitives.”

“There, there,” Liara patted her human's hand. “The explination is simple enough. For the most part early asari civilization communicated through sound and mind.”

“Ah,” Shepard said, clearly not getting it.

Liara huffed impatiently, “The spoken word was not as critical when two people could just open themselves up to direct information, Shepard. The combination of tone, rhythm being used as a vehicle for longer distance mental connections; feeling too. It was a deeper way, not necessarily better than the spoken word but...more. Lying, for example would be very difficult using The Words of Shifting Oceans. The asari still have that capability today but it is not openly used. I've never even heard or been addressed so outside of my lessons. For the most part only the matriarchs use it. Many asari may go through their entire lives without mastering it, or even learning its most basic principles.” 

The elevator came to a stop but neither of them moved to leave. 

Shepard quietly said, “I'm guessing Benezia wanted you to learn early?”

Liara nodded, a shadow passing across her face at the mention of her mother- bringing with it memories of how she had met her end, “Yes, it was one of the few times where my interest in the past and her ideas on what I should be doing were in agreement.”

“And how does this make me amazing?” Shepard asked.

“I could write a list,” Liara replied, smiling slyly at her human. “But no, what you described is not what most non-asari should have heard. Though I've no direct experience; I was taught that any others hearing the Words would only notice a simple, if elegant, tune. Like someone singing to themselves or someone else. That you were able to ….” she paused, at a loss; she tapped a forefinger on her cheek considering. “That you were able to resonate with the Words speaks well for your mind, Shepard.”

“Well,” Shepard said, feeling a bit awkward. She pointed at her temple, “I've received a couple of upgrades. What did Tevos say? If I can ask.”

Liara squeezed Shepard's arm, “I'll keep no more secrets from you, Shepard. Ever.”

“Same here,” her human whispered.

“I know,” Liara replied. “Tevos told me the matriarchs had declared you precious to the asari. That I was to be proud to call you my friend and that if you ever are in need, the asari will assist you. That I too am now considered precious to the race as well.”

Shepard frowned, puzzled. “Isn't that kind of what Tevos told me? And just your friend?”

Liara replied, “I remind you- it is very difficult to lie using the words. Additionally it is more of an emotional thing. The gravity and importance of the meaning could not be conveyed using the spoken word. Also there is much more significance. The matriarchs have stated that all asari shall know of you and I. Stories, songs, art, history. The definitive history that all future generations of asari learn shall include us.” Liara sighed, “Basically put, Shepard, we are going to hold the same place in modern and future asari society as the goddess Athame did in the past.”

“Uhm....” Shepard suddenly was very interested in the ceiling of the elevator. Then the floor, she paid particular close attention to the walls and counted the numbered buttons, making sure they were all there. Twice.  
Finally she bit the bullet and said, “That...that sounds an awful lot like The Flock, Liara, and they're nuts.”

“Yes,” Liara agreed, pulling Shepard out of the elevator and toward the cabin door, “Which is why we are both going to need a large drink.”

“And you still haven't told me what Tevos meant by 'friend'!”

 

The lights were low, most of the illumination came from the giant aquarium that made up one entire wall of the cabin. Rippling waves reflected off models that sat in a glass display case; the case itself acting as a divider between the upper part and lower parts of the cabin. On the desk lay several pads, scattered haphazardly about, next too a photo-display, currently dark. Directly behind the desk, three shelves ran the length of the back wall up to a now closed, heavy door. The shelves appeared made of the same strong dark plastic- in truth a hybrid material of ceramic and light metals- that that all the other furniture was made of yet the top shelf appeared to almost be buckling under the weight of the many books and cases that lined every square centimeter. And these were actual books, a rarity for their time, made of actual paper. Actual trees had been cut down for them.  
None appeared to be in very good condition; most were paper backs with cracked spines and dog ears appearing throughout.. There was also no order to how they were on the shelf. Some lay horizontal atop each other, others perpendicular; fiction was next to non-fiction, sci-fi intermingled with comedy with the occasional military book thrown in. Thick, thin, old, new, paperback and hard cover; the only thing all these books had in common were how also seemed to have been thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed by their owner.   
The middle shelf gave an exact opposite impression- this one of absolute rigid order while still seeming to groan under its own burden. In this case racks upon racks of data-cases. Each case held a disk, each disk having enough storage space to hold over a thousand hours of video and audio data. The cases themselves were cataloged with military precision, color coded. Horror films were purple, sci-fi, green, comedy movies were given a yellow badge while action fell under the white tag. The titles of the categories were lined up in alphabetical order. Anyone asking where the romance movies were got a bullet to the brain. At the far end of the middle shelf, separated by a divider were five special cases. These were Shepard's pride and joy. Her safety net, her shelter; a place to go when she desperately needed to turn her brain off because they represented the perfect excuse to get mind-shatteringly drunk. They were also a source of fear and nausea for any others who happened to be visiting at the time: This was Shepard's 'So bad they're bad' movie collection. 

The best movie to be found there was called Troll 2. It was all downhill after that.

Their tag was a happy face.

The lowest shelf was nearly bare, the only thing on it was a tiny cage with a few plastic tubes running along the inside. At the bottom was a wheel, across from it- a water bottle. Tucked in the corner rested a nest made of sawdust, chewed cardboard and some pieces of cotton. Sadly, the cage was dark, quiet and empty.

The heavy door to the right of the shelves was closed, from behind the door, were one to press their ear against the metal, one would have heard the sound of running water.

 

The door hissed open and the warmer, humid air from within rolled out into the cooler air of the rest of the cabin carrying great wafts of steam that whirled in eddies before fading away. Liara strode out of the bathroom, wrapped snugly in a large, deep green towel. Moving down the steps she faced her human who was tucked in the corner of the sofa one leg was stretched out, the foot on a small table. Shepard was using her other leg as a rest for a large book she held open; staring at it intently she flipped through the pages rapidly.  
The sofa rocked slightly as Liara took a seat at the end.

Leaning her head back, displaying the long lines and soft skin of her throat which gave way to the rising curves, themselves vanishing under the towel's ed- Shepard refocused on the book.

“Goddess,” Liara breathed, “I can understand the need for water rationing on earth but it is such a luxury to be able to take a hot shower without having to worry about an alarm.”

Leaning forward she stretched her arms overhead, arching her back; Shepard literally forced her eyeballs to remain staring at the words in front of her which, for all she knew, could have been written in Swahili. Liara sighed in satisfaction and lay down; Shepard quickly lowered her leg giving her asari space for her to place her head in Shepard's lap. Rolling over on her back Liara looked up at Shepard, “What are you doing?”

Shepard ran her fingertips along the contorts of Liara's crest; her asari's quiet sigh sent ripples down her spine. “Well,” Shepard replied, and she dragged her finger across the tips of cartilage. “Couple of things. I'm trying to find out where I left off in this book,” she tossed the text onto the table top, ignoring the loud bang. “Secondly I'm thinking about this naval base we're heading too. Kind of wondering about that.”

“You believe it's a trap?” Liara asked.

Shepard shook her head, “No, just thinking.”

“What else are you considering?”

Shepard shifted her weight, forcing Liara to sit up. The commander rested her elbows on her knees, and palmed her chin, “I'm thinking I might be a pretty crappy girlfriend,” she admitted.

Liara blinked; she looked at Shepard askance, then firmly replied, “If this is more of that self-pity Garrus still has that oven maker-”

“Coffee maker,” Shepard corrected.

“Yes, he still has that coffee maker that he can use to convince you otherwise.”

Laughing slightly, Shepard shoved Liara's shoulder playfully, “No, I'm good; it's nothing like that.”

Liara leaned forward, and Shepard started staring at the fish in the aquarium, “Then what is it, Shepard?” her asari asked.

“It's that I haven’t asked about you,” Shepard answered.

“I-” again Liara paused. “I'm not quite sure I understand.”

“I broke my promise, Liara, I was essentially dead, again, for two years. The last time that happened you had some issues with it. Now I'm up and about and instead of 'yay, alive!' we're so far up shit-creek the damn thing has achieved a density similar to the heart of a sun. Our life is orbiting the crap-star. Yet you've been doing everything you can to hold me together and I haven't even once asked how you dealt with it,” Shepard fell back on the sofa with a huff. “Like I said, a pretty bad girlfriend.”

Liara crossed her legs, oblivious to how Shepard was studiously ignoring how her doing so caused the lower rim of the towel to rise up several centimeters; they really were lovely fish, before she answered carefully, “It was...it was hard, Shepard. But nothing compared to...to....” her voice drifted off.

Shepard stayed silent.

Appearing to rally, Liara said, “It was not as bad as the first time, I mean you were- technically you were alive. I was of course in a complete panic those first few days but after you were stabilized I felt better.” 

Liara found herself watching the blue water, the pattern of reflections shimmering across her skin. “But then,” her words were barely a whisper, “then you didn't wake up.”

Liara put her face in her hands, pressing her fingers along the ridge of her nose, “Then we- I was told that...that....” with a shuddering gasp she straightened, staring at her palms. “Goddess, I'm crying. I'm so sorry Shepard I don't- I don't know....” 

Shepard didn't say a word, she barely breathed.

Liara stood up quickly, moving in front of the aquarium; the light outlining her in blue, “I was so angry!” the vehemence of her tone snarling from between stretched lips. “Angry at you, angry at everyone else, angry at the universe. I thought the first time, after the original Normandy was destroyed I could handle....”

She placed both palms on the warm glass, “I thought it would be easier, I could still see you every day. I knew every step of your treatments,” Liara stifled a sobbing giggle. “Whenever I saw Miranda I would demand she tell me everything and what I didn't understand I learned, which just made me feel more helpless.”

A hiccup, followed by a quiet sniffle, “Then of course there was the work. Goddess, so many requests. You wouldn't believe some of what was asked of me; supplies to be routed or tracked down. Information on pirates or assistance in locating the sources of transmissions. Ships to be found or missing people. Families that were trying to learn what had happened to loved ones; those I did the most I could. On rare occasions,” Liara's voice turned wistful, “I even succeeded.”

The fingers curled into claws, nails seeking out and failing to find purchase on the smooth, unfeeling glass. “Other times were better,” Liara admitted. “I saw Garrus frequently; he would take me out insisting I get back to living, or he'd suggest we watch your films. Always there was copious amounts of alcohol and shared stories of adventures past, I had to pretend to enjoy it. Occasionally the others would stop by; they said they were checking up on you but of course I'm sure they were also trying to asses my own condition. They remembered Illium.”

There was a slight hissing as nails were dragged across glass, “Then they'd leave and I'd be alone again, and still so angry!” the curling snarl was audible. “Why couldn't you keep your promise?”

Liara was bent nearly double now, fingers splayed on the glass, the aquarium supporting her entire weight. If she noticed the tears sliding over her cheeks to fall on the cabin floor or her quiet sniffles against the background hum of the aquarium's filter neither her or Shepard gave any sign. 

Slowly, very slowly her breathing became more regular. She straightened slowly, still facing the waters. “It was an unfair promise that I forced on you.”

Shepard carefully took some air in and let it out. She resting her forehead in her hands, “I'm sorry, Liara. We're both still hurting.”

The rustle of falling cloth, the only sound shattering the silence.

“Heal me then. Please?” Shepard looked up to see her standing there; her asari, her Liara, right in front of her.

The distance from one end of the sofa to the bed that dominated the far end of the cabin could be crossed in two short steps. Somehow between those two points Shepard found herself go from being in full uniform to completely disrobed before the two of them fell upon the mattress together. The kiss was succor; there had been no casual building of need, it flashed forward, highlighting the ragged hole she could feel in her chest and the resounding cry from within of exultation brought such relief her eyes pricked. She twined one leg around Liara's waist, her arms, white skin with a crisscrossing patchwork of scars, in gorgeous contrast to the pale blue of her lover, holding on so very tight. She pulled away, ducking her head to run her lips along her asari's neck, to suckle the skin; the shuddering gasp ringing in her ears the only approval and encouragement she needed. 

Her lover's hands, flush against her, slid over the small of her back, down following the curves of her body until they pulled and squeezed, her hips undulated; she ground herself against her asari's body and with a growl sealed her lips over the hollow in the blue throat sucking hard, the hiss of air drawn between clenched teeth, a sweet music. A moment more of that heady taste and, ignoring the murmurs of protest she stopped her adorations; her lover's fingers grasped at her desperately but she forced herself to move downward, kissing the inner curve of a breast, the tip of a deep blue nipple, but never stopping in one place for long and to mark her passage she dragged her fingertips along the sides of her lover's body, over ribs, and curving, heaving belly.  
And now her asari was not attempting to restrain her, now her lover's hands were on her shoulders, urging her faster, pushing her down with growing urgency. Chuckling quietly she resisted; she would not be rushed. Her lover spread her legs wide, and she took a moment just to savor the moment. Blue flesh glistened in the dim light and the heady scent made her feel dizzy, she moistened her lips and with great care spread her lover. There in front of her, ran a so very soft ridge of dark blue. It completely ran around the edge of her lover's opening, sandwiched neatly between her asari's inner and outer lips- the asari equivalent of woman's clitoris. 

“Halo,” she breathed and the heat of her words drifted across the sensitive flesh. Her asari's gasp and the clenching of fingers curled in her hair told her what was desired. 

“Goddess!” Liara cried out, her muscles ached at her sudden jerk as she nearly rose off the bed. Her fingers tugged at her lover's hair, she loved Shepard's hair. Her thighs clenched down, trapping her human in place, with her legs she embraced her human; sensation rippled up her body to impact within; it was right. Pleasure, love, a warmth that had nothing to do with desire, quiet inside, beside the torrential need that screamed along her flesh, it was all right now. Later might see things change but here, now, it was all right. 

Her lower back came up off the bed, she swallowed convulsively, unable to make a sound; the sheer ecstasy more than any possible expression. Her throat ached as great breaths sawed in and out of heaving lungs; then she couldn't breath at all. Her teeth clenched, hands squeezed into fists, her hips hunched forward, her lover's strong, strong arms whipped around to hold her thighs still, to hold her still! It was still not- no- wait- Her lover was inside her, the tip, being dragged along her inner walls. White built up behind her eyes, eyes squeezed shut so tightly her face ached, the vibrations surged up from where her human was loving her and the heat running round and round her halo; the wet, soft heat driving her mad and the scream lodged in her belly that would not co-

She bucked hard, flung her legs apart, reaching down and cupped her human's face, She pulled her up and with a cry of, “Embrace me!” sealed her lover's mouth with a kiss; an idle part of her mind enjoyed the taste.

And then she wasn't.

And then she wasn't.

They were.

It was glorious.

And then they're weren’t.

And she slept wrapped in the arms of her lover, the sheets tangled between them. 

It was all, all right.

 

Until someone rang the door.

“God dammit,” Shepard said groggily. “I'm going to kill them, that's better than coffee. Morning murder.”

Blinking herself awake, Liara spotted the clock. “While technically it is morning,” she agreed. “I would have to approve of this particular case of homicide.”

The door rang again.

“To hell with it,” Shepard grumbled. “Whoever they are I hope they like a good peep show.” Liara dove under the covers as her human shouted, “Come!” 

The door slid open and Miranda Lawson stepped across the threshold. 

While she appeared as she did, full body suit, hair styled to perfection, the confident, measured stride with predatory overtones accompanied by just a enough hip to fall just short of scandalous there was something just off. Her jaw was set a hairs breath too hard, the creak of plastic from the data pad clenched in one hand, her other arm, stiff, as it swung back and forth in counterpoint to her steps.   
She locked eyes with Shepard and if there was any discomfort to having literally walked in on her commanding officer and her asari, barely concealed by the covers where the earlier activities were patently obvious, it didn't show.

“Commander,” and her voice was the flat, calm tone to be found in the silence before the other side of the hurricane blasts everything apart. “I've found something.”

Shepard almost said 'this had better be worth it,' as a light, but serious warning to the former operative; but Miranda's grim tone and the quiet, rage behind it made her pause. Instead she sat up, pulled the top blanket to her, wrapping herself to create a makeshift robe and swung her feet over the edge of the bed while saying, “Very well, Miranda. You have my attention.”

Miranda's omnitool flared as she flung one hand outward; as if summoned by magic three images sprang into existence all appearing identical superficially. Spinning slowly in mid air were four, three-dimensional, holographic images of a the bones from a human forearm. The one farthest on the right was labeled Sample A with samples B, C and D following accordingly. 

“These are from your medical records, commander,” Miranda began. “Sample A is from right after the battle with Sovereign, the second is from your last medical before you were assigned to the mission that lead to the original Normandy's destruction. The third scan was made after you were recovered from the Battle of London and finally Sample D was taken several weeks before you woke up.”

She slid a finger along her omnitool and in response a glowing line followed the edges of an obvious compound fracture that ran nearly parallel to one of the forearm bones in Sample A. “You may recall that you broke your arm quite badly during your fight with Saren.”

“With Sovereign,” Shepard interrupted. “I'd killed Saren already. That thing that came back wasn't anything even remotely alive. I fought the machine.”

Miranda shrugged, “As you say, commander. The exact injury was to your radius. Here though,” again she entered a command into her omnitool, creating another illuminated line in Sample B. “Here is the same injury several months after you had fully recovered. As you can see on the there is a faint marker on the radius.”

“Of course,” Liara said. “Anyone with casual knowledge of the physiology of any species with an exoskeleton will have learned the body attempts to reinforces points where the bones have been broken. Though later in the species life-span such reinforcements can be the cause of discomfort, even disease.” 

Shepard eyed her asari, quirking an eyebrow, “Anyone with casual knowledge?”

“Hush,” Liara smirked. “Even you know that.”

“Commander,” Miranda's voice cut across the banter. “I'm sorry, but this...may I just continue? After the battle of London one of the many injuries you received was a shattered Humerus, the bone extending from your shoulder to the elbow.” 

Sample C's fracture became highlighted. This one was far worse, the bone itself was broken in many places, more resembling the scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “During your treatment the pieces of the humerus were reassembled, the plan originally was to add implants to assist in the healing after the initial surgery. Later it was discovered that would not be necessary.”

She held out a hand, indicating Sample D. The bones appeared pristine, unblemished. The humerus spun in lazy circles looking as normal as anyone could hope for, “Do you see?” Miranda asked.

Shepard narrowed her eyes, glanced through the samples again, her stomach began to burn, “Where are the signs of the healed bones?” she asked.

Miranda nodded in approval, “There are none.”

Shepard frowned slightly, “Well, you did say to the admirals that you believed I would heal faster because of the implants. Wasn't that supposed to be actually one of the functions of your original design?”

“Improved healing time, Shepard!” Miranda said. “This,” and she pointed to Samples C and D, “is not improved healing, this is perfect healing. That doesn't happen, commander. No matter how sophisticated or finely honed the healing process is, there will always be residual damage, even if only on the cellular level. But not you. I checked. The bones in your humerus are as if they were never even bruised, much less nearly broken into several dozen fragments.”

“What are you getting at Miranda,” Shepard mouthed each word, her tongue dry and heavy. She felt Liara behind her, felt one hand sliding across the mattress seeking out hers but Shepard did not move.

Miranda again swept a palm left to right, the four images of the bones vanished to be replaced by four more images. If there was any difference in holograms, besides again being labeled A, B, C and D, Shepard couldn't see it all. 

The four images each showed small ovoids, three-dimensional cylinders with rounded tips, in free fall. Some drifted, others seemed to be connected end to end. All were virtually identical, at least visually.

“These are holographic representations of human chromosomes,” Miranda said. The first two are mine, the last two are yours. The first sample C was taken during Project Lazarus. The second, D, again, just a few weeks ago.”

“Okay,” Shepard said. “Guns are more my speed, or books but fine, we're studying genetics today.” Shepard pushed the gnawing in her guts down while trying to ignore the growing awareness that, behind her, Liara was breathing just a little bit faster.

“Commander,” Miranda asked. “Do you know what a Telomere is?”

“No,” Shepard replied. 

Miranda rubbed at her eyes wearily, “In essence they are chemical buffers at the end of the chromosome. When cells divide they protect the chromosomes from deterioration; this insures the new cells are perfectly healthy and the genetic information remains uncorrupted for the next generation of division, but with every such division the Telomeres become weaker. Eventually, they wear out completely leaving the chromosome vulnerable and it escalates ultimately to cell death.”

“Miranda,” Liara said quietly.

“And?” Shepard spoke over her asari, a knot was tightening in the back of her mind.

“These images from of my own chromosomes are two years apart,” Miranda zoomed in on the ends of the cylinders in Images A and B. “Sample A is right after London, I was injured myself and had some blood work done. The second I took a few days ago. Look at the Telomeres, commander.” 

The zoom increased, bringing the the ends into sharper and sharper focus. The difference between the two samples was very, very slight but there was definitely a diminishing of the highlighted area from Sample B in comparison to Sample A. 

“And these are yours,” the brunette waved a hand and the zoom of the ends of the cylinders, the chromosomes, repeated itself. The knot became an ache. Even before it finished the meaning was very obvious. The ache became a scream. The Telomeres from two years before was identical, if anything, the Telomeres in the forth sample, the most recent sample, where thicker than the those in Sample C. The scream became howling shadows.

“Goddess,” Liara breathed.

Miranda slumped onto the end of the sofa, “This is why they wanted you, commander, this is why they're hunting you. If this gets out, everyone else will as well. I could be wrong, there are some other aspects I need to investigate but if I'm right...I've how it's been done, but,” she shrugged helplessly, “you're not aging, Shepard.”

 

'You're immortal.”

And the shadows swallowed her.

It always started out the same: A dead woods wreathed in fog. Flickering through the trees shadows wound there way to nowhere; gathering in clearings to let accusatory whispers echo between broken, dead things; words from the dead to the dead. Whispers for her alone. 

Black earth crunched underfoot, twisted, bare branches reached through the gloom to pull at her, cling to her; stumbling over roots, flinching away from scratching brambles, the forced herself deeper. The shadows whirled between skeletal trees, congealing in pockets of greater darkness to then spin apart and hunt anew. 

With a final push of effort she came to a clearing. Ringed by the dead woods, the ebon, clouds hanging low and fat in the sky. The crackle of dry leaves underfoot, sounding more like the rustle of consuming fire, marked her progress to the middle of the open space. 

From above the clouds, was that thunder?

Red light flickered across the ground.

She stared up into the infected, bloated sky. 

Sound, the roar of the damned, ripped though the trees, scattering branches and shadows alike; crimson spotlights stabbed downwards from the long burned heavens. The great black shapes descended through the cover, each one landing in the dead-woods with such force the ground shook hard enough to knock her to her knees. One, then ten, a thousand, thousand of them smashing to earth and they came. Great limbs, taller than buildings ponderously lifted their bulks. She lay on her back, spreadeagled, helpless...waiting...resigned.

They surrounded her, looked down on her, bright glaring, hating and then It came into view. Its four eyes blazing with a thousand millenia of tactical, organized slaughter. 

She looked at The Reaper.

It looked back at her.

Then the machine said to Shepard, “Greetings, Harbinger.”

 

END: Blue: Cerulean: Six  
END: Blue: Cerulean  
END: Blue: Book One.

To be continued in Blue: Iris: One


End file.
